


In The Air

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, John's A Trolley Dolly, Key, M/M, Marks, Missed Connection?, Sherlock's A Frustrating Passenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is preparing for another ordinary flight when a passenger arrives that makes things a lot more interesting -- but will he still find him quite as intriguing when they reach their destination?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Interesting Passenger

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sherlock hadn't wanted to go on this trip in the first place, but Mycroft had talked him into it, like somehow he always can, and then at the last minute, Mycroft backed out, like somehow he always did. Sherlock was now stuck on an airplane for eight hours, on his way to meet with some old family member he knew and cared nothing about. He had a feeling that someone on this flight was going to pay for his irritation; he just hadn't decided who it would be yet. 

John was standing by the door, greeting passengers as they came onto the plane and directing them to their seats. He was distracted -- a few minutes ago a tall, dark haired man had come through that John couldn't get out of his head. He smiled at passengers and closed the door after the last one, heading into the first class compartment to get his things ready for the pre-flight speech about safety.

Sherlock took out his phone and tried to ring Mycroft again. Still no answer, straight to voicemail. He set his phone down on his tray and hit Call again -- he would keep calling until Mycroft answered or until the voicemail was filled with Sherlock's silent messages. As he did this, he looked around him: nothing but obnoxious businessmen and a couple wealthy tourists around him. This further annoyed him.

John was milling around the small kitchen area, preparing his cart for when they would be offering refreshments. The captain came on and started explaining about the trip, how long it would take and the weather at their arriving destination. John peeked out and saw the tall man from earlier on his phone. Now that they were taxing he'd have to turn that off. "Excuse me," John said, walking over to him. "That'll have to be turned off please, until we're coasting."

Sherlock did not hear the man speaking to him at first, because he had already shut off his mind to every other person on the plane. When he felt a tap on his arm and heard the man repeat his comment, Sherlock looked up. It was the steward. Sherlock said, "You're telling me my phone is going to cause the plane to crash? You allowed me -- and everyone else here, no doubt -- to bring a device on with us which could technically crash the plane? That doesn't seem very responsible of you." Sherlock looked up at the man's face and decided: he was the one who was going to get the brunt of Sherlock's wrath.

It took everything in John's power not to roll his eyes. "As I've just explained, you can use it later. Please turn it off until we get to cruising altitude." John turned and walked away from him, going to another passenger who had a question about dinner.

Sherlock turned off his phone because, in all honesty, he couldn't really care less about using it, but that steward's completely ignoring his incredibly logical question got to him. He watched the man and waited until he headed back to the front of the plane and then Sherlock leaned up and pushed his Call Attendant button.

John heard the soft ding and looked to see who was blinking. He looked at the tall man and visibly sighed, make his way over. "Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said, "but when did you say my phone would suddenly become safe to use?"

John took a slow breath. "When we're cruising. The seatbelt light will turn off, and I will even make an announcement to let you know."

"Thank you," Sherlock said. He waited until he left and then hit his button again. When the man returned, Sherlock said, "Don't make an announcement just on my behalf. We can come up with a little signal -- I'll keep watching you and when it's safe, just give me a wink, and I'll know what it means. I don't want you to go to all that trouble on my behalf."

"The announcement is made regardless," John informed him. "Other people will want to use their electronics."

Sherlock looked around. "Are you 100% sure none of them is using it right now, while we're not-cruising? I'm worried now that the plane might crash," he said, raising his voice slightly on the word crash.

"Stop," John pleaded, knowing how easily panicked people could become. "Yes, I'm sure. And it's mostly a precaution." He leaned a bit closer. "Please don't make this harder for me. It will only be a few minutes." John stood straight again just a they were told to take their seats. He went to his own seat and buckled in, watching the dark-haired man.

For a moment, Sherlock actually felt bad for this guy. It wasn't his fault that Mycroft had essentially tricked him -- this man was actually working for eight hours solid on this flight full of, excluding Sherlock obviously, idiots. He leaned his head ever so slightly so he could see the man's face. It was quite a handsome face, really -- there was a hardness and a softness to it. Perhaps there was a way this man could keep Sherlock entertained without having to be stressed out even more.

Sherlock pulled a piece of paper from his pocket in and in big block letters he wrote "APOLOGIES," colouring each one in with his pen. Then he held it slightly out into the aisle, waiting for the man to look up.

John saw movement from the corner of his eye and for a moment he thought the man had taken to flagging him down instead of using the button. He was about to say something when he actually looked closely at what he was holding. Oh. Well, that was nice of him. John caught his eyes and offered him a small smile and nod. The plane shook lightly as they rose higher and higher. John closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. He'd chosen an odd profession for someone who disliked turbulence, but he was excellent under pressure and loved traveling so he suffered through it.  

Yes, Sherlock thought, it was indeed a handsome face. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the movement of the plane, thinking about the fact that they were now in the air. That they were no longer on the ground. For some reason, he enjoyed that feeling, that movement from being stable and steadied to being unsupported by the earth. 

It took a good half hour for them to get up to cruising and that was when John got up and started getting the cart ready for drinks and snacks. He clicked the seat belt button off and grabbed up the phone that allowed him to speak to the cabin. He looked right at the curly haired man as he spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, the seat belt sign has been turned off but we remind you that you should stay buckled in when you are at your seat. Also, it is now all right to use your electronic devices." He hung up the phone and disappeared again, making sure all of his bottles were full and he had a good stack of cups before pushing the cart out and starting to serve drinks and pretzels.    

Sherlock turned his phone back on, pulled down his tray and set his phone on top of it. He undid his seat belt and stretched his legs out a bit. When the cart got to him, Sherlock looked up and said, "I'd like a whiskey, please. And get one for yourself," he said smiling.

John rolled his eyes but smiled. "I'm working," he said, pouring out the drink and setting it on his table. He placed a packet of pretzels and a napkin beside it. "Thanks anyways," he said. He had almost told him to buy him a proper drink sometime but he chickened out -- he didn't even know the man's name let alone if he was actually interested.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said to John. "I'll be sitting here for the next eight hours . . . if you need anything, you'll know where to find me." He smiled.

John smiled. "I'm supposed to be telling you that, but as we both know you're not exactly shy with the call button," he said. He continued on to the four rows behind Sherlock before pulling the cart back to the front. He picked up the phone again and informed them all about their choices of movies and games on their televisions, including the fact that they could order from SkyMall right on the television by sliding credit cards through the remote. He told them to call for help if they needed it and disappeared again to get things ready for dinner. 

Sherlock flipped through a magazine and then closed his eyes for a bit. When he finished his whiskey, he set the empty glass next to the napkin. On the napkin, he wrote "Will you be my Valentine?" and drew a love heart. He leaned his seat back a little and closed his eyes.

John organised his cart and then put it away for later. When he was finished he put on gloves and took a trash bag, moving up the aisle in case anyone wanted to get rid of their cups and packages. He kept glancing at Sherlock, who now had his eyes closed and was thankfully behaving. 

Sherlock brought the man into his mind palace. But he replaced his obnoxiously coloured uniform with a pair of jeans and a thick jumper -- it made him look even more handsome, partly because he looked more comfortable. Sherlock smiled a little to himself.

John wondered what he was thinking about that was making him smile like that and he found himself wishing he could make Sherlock smile like that. When he got close he tapped his shoulder and offered the open bag. "Anything to throw out?"

"No," Sherlock said, "but someone left this for you," he folded the napkin and handed it to John. "He just handed it to me and then jumped out that door there," he said, pointing to the emergency door. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. 

John looked down at the napkin and felt his cheeks flush. He stuffed it into his pocket and smiled softly. "He went through a lot of trouble considering it's September," John said. He wanted to stay there but had no choice but to move on along the row. He did so slowly. 

"I have his number," Sherlock said, grabbing John's arm lightly. "Did you want me to pass a message on to him?"

John looked back and studied his face for a moment. "Tell him yes," John said casually, gently pulling away to go get rid of the trash. Once out of sight again he allowed himself to freak out a bit, his mouth dropping open and his eyes blinking a lot as he processed it all. This man was obviously flirting with John, which was fantastic, but in six hours they would land and never see each other again. 

Sherlock smiled. He finished the last of his whiskey, leaned back and closed his eyes again. He realised he didn't know the man's name. That would need to be remedied. He reached up and rang his buzzer, watching the woman at the front head his way. "Could you tell me the name of the man who has been serving the drinks?" he asked her, smiling in the way he could that would make anyone tell him anything.

"It's John, sir. Is there a problem?" she asked, smiling in the way that most air hostesses did.

"Oh no, not at all," Sherlock said. "He's an excellent steward. In fact, I would like to suggest that you promote him to pilot." He smiled again, then leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Apparently you should be bumped up to pilot," Sarah said as she came back to start her own cart. 

John's brows furrowed. "Pilot? What?"

"That's what the handsome man in nine said," she grinned. There was a soft ding and she peeked out. "Ugh -- that woman is going to be the death of me," she sighed, moving back out on the other aisle. John couldn't help smiling, peeking out again and watching the man as he slept -- was he sleeping? It was hard to tell. But his eyes were closed so John took advantage and admired him. 

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked out the window for a while.  Then he reached up and rang his button. The woman had already spoken to moved from a few rows behind him and said, "What can I get you, sir?"

"John, please," Sherlock said.

When Sherlock opened his eyes, John ducked away again and fiddled with his tray. Sarah came around and squeezed behind him. "You're being requested at nine," she said, raising her brows. 

"Shut up," John mumbled, stepping out and walking to Sherlock. "Can I help you?" He asked formally.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said, all innocently. "I was just trying to ask that woman where the toilet was, but she walked away from me and sent you. That's a nice surprise. How has your flight been so far?"

John glanced towards the obvious location but didn't mention it. "It's been very good, thanks. How's yours?"

"I'd have to say . . . excellent. I got a text back from that friend of yours, the parachutist. He wondered if it'd be inappropriate to ask if you were currently involved in a romantic relationship of some sort?" Sherlock had picked up his phone as if he were pretending to read back at text.

John glanced at the phone and then back at Sherlock, fighting the urge to grin stupidly. "Sadly I am not in a relationship at the moment," he said. 

"Well, that's lucky . . . for him. He's not either," Sherlock said, looking up at him. "Nor am I, as a matter of fact. When's dinner, John? I hope you don't mind my using your first name."

"We encourage that sort of thing to make the passengers feel more comfortable," John said. "And what kind of friend are you trying to set him up with me and then throwing yourself into the mix?" he teased, raising his brows. Just then someone in the back lifted their hand and John sighed softly. "I have to go," he said, moving to see what the other passenger wanted. He found himself wondering why these other people were even on the flight.   

Sherlock put his leg into the aisle slightly so that John would have to stop on his way back. "That's a little hurtful," he said when John walked by, "running after someone else right in the middle of our conversation. Should I tell my friend you're too much of a social butterfly to be tied down to just one parachutist?" Sherlock moved his fingers against the edge of his arm rest. "You were saying when I should expect dinner, I think," he continued.

"Unfortunately you are not the only passenger, Sherl -- Mr. Holmes. Dinner will be served in an hour -- half way through the flight." He stepped over Sherlock's leg and made to walk away. He'd been watching Sherlock's fingers on the armrest and suddenly felt a bit flustered. 

"John," Sherlock said, catching his attention before he walked away. "I wish I were the only passenger." He smiled and then leaned back and closed his eyes again. After a few minutes, he sat up and pulled out another piece of paper and one of his business cards. On the paper he wrote, "I am a consulting detective and I have deduced that there is someone on this plane who finds you extremely interesting. SH" He folded the paper three times, slipped the card inside and wrote "John" on the outside of the little packet. He dropped it onto the floor of the aisle.

John slipped into the little kitchen area and leaned against the wall, trying to steady his breathing a bit. Sarah came around and laughed at him, holding out a small paper. John took it and opened it up, feeling his cheeks flush lightly. "Look, if you're going to do anything just be quiet about it, yeah?"

"Shut up," John said, peeking out and trying to catch a look at Sherlock. He tore the paper in half and kept the part Sherlock had written on, his own pen hovering on the blank half. Sarah was grinning and peeking over his shoulder. "Do you mind?" he asked, looking over at her. 

She laughed and pulled out the drink tray. "Dinner in thirty," she reminded as she headed out. 

_First a parachutist, then you, and now a mysterious stranger? Sounds like I'm quite the catch._ He folded the paper up and counted the trays, setting it on top of the one Sherlock was going to get. He wheeled the tray out and started passing them out, glancing at Sherlock as he went. When he set down Sherlock's, he smiled and moved on.

Sherlock opened the paper, feeling quite pleased that he was enjoying this so much. Nice handwriting -- this was a good sign, though of what, Sherlock hadn't yet decided. He waited a little while, occasionally turning back quickly to see where John was. He knew John was doing his job and didn't want to disrupt that. Well, maybe a little, but not in a way that would annoy him. Once John was almost finished passing everything out, Sherlock sat up and rang his call button.

John finished handing out the trays before going to Sherlock, backing the tray up to his seat. "Yes?" he asked, glancing down and seeing his note on the table. 

"I ordered the kosher, diabetic, vegetarian, gluten-free meal but didn't get it. However, I don't want to trouble you over that as I don't intend to eat anything anyway," Sherlock said. "However, I did want to ask if you've figured out which of the passengers has a little bit of a crush on you or if you needed my help in the matter. My fees are quite high, but I'd willing to offer you a sliding scale rate since this case is rather time-sensitive."

"How lucky for me," John said sarcastically. Then he grinned. "I actually have figured it out and I'm planning on asking them on a date. I don't know what they're doing when we land yet, but I'll be there for a couple days so I'm sure something will work out."

"That's good, though the parachutist might not think so. Then again he's in the middle of the sea and won't be arriving in New York. I, of course, will be -- you have my card in case you need to contact me there about any new cases," Sherlock said. He grabbed John's hand, holding it for a second, before shifting to turn it into a handshake. "I did just want to thank you for all your excellent service so far. I hope the second half of the flight goes as smoothly."

John bit his lip as Sherlock grabbed his hand and even after the handshake John didn't let go. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he said. He looked down at their hands and slowly pulled it back, dragging his fingers across Sherlock's. He let out a heavy breath and pulled the cart back. Once he put it away he pulled out his phone and saved Sherlock's number before sending a message. 

_I have a case for you. A handsome steward going to a new town he knows nothing about. Any time to show him around?_

He left off his signature for now even though he was sure Sherlock would know who it was. 

_Perhaps he would like to start by visiting the restaurant at my hotel which is neither world-renowned nor particularly satisfying. SH_

_I'll suggest it and see what he thinks. Turns out he thinks that sounds wonderful._

_Good. I hope he is as lovely as you are. SH_

John grinned stupidly, ignoring the call light dinging above him. 

_Yes. He's a catch. You're very lucky._

Sherlock smiled and watched John as he came back out to deal with a passenger. What would Mycroft say? No matter really -- it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't tricked Sherlock. He tried to catch John's attention. "Could I have a cup of tea, please?" he asked sincerely.

John nodded. "How do you take it?" he asked, pausing by his seat. 

"Just milk, please, and a little bit of love, of course," Sherlock said, smiling stupidly.

John grinned back at him and went to make the tea. When he brought it back, he leaned in very close to set it down. "Went a bit heavy with that second one . . . sorry," he said quietly, glancing up at him before he stood properly and went to another passenger with their hand up. They requested tea as well and John disappeared to make it.  

"Thanks," Sherlock said and smiled at John. He watched John walk -- even though Sherlock guessed he was a few years older than him, he was obviously fit. He rested his hands around the warm mug on the tray table and closed his eyes again. He imagined walking with John around New York, imagined taking him to a few of his favourite places -- he hadn't been to the City in a while but he did enjoy many aspects of it. He also imagined taking John up to his room, lying him down on his bed, and kissing him. He smiled softly as he let that picture continue in his head.

"What did you put in his tea?" Sarah asked, looking over at Sherlock. John looked too and saw him smiling softly, cheeks lightly flushed. John bit his lip and nudged her away from him, not answering. He'd give anything to see what he was thinking about. 


	2. An Interested Passenger

Sherlock sat up and rang his bell, looking to the front to catch John's eye.

John flushed as their eyes met and he walked over holding his gaze. "Yes?"

"I'm obviously quite familiar with legal issues and I was wondering if your employer expects you to work this entire flight without a few minutes break. If they do, would you like me to take them to court on your behalf and if they don't, do you think you might spend those minutes with me?" Sherlock said.

"We technically don't get breaks because, between dinners and such we get to sit down. But . . . I might be able to spend a bit of that down time with you." 

"I'd like that, but I don't want to get you into trouble. But I'd like that because it appears I like you," Sherlock said. "I hope that's not inappropriate, but even if it is, it's true."

"I will talk with my partner about it and figure something out. I . . . like you as well," he smiled. A light came on and John sighed. "Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

"Of course," Sherlock watched John walked away and then looked down at his phone, worried his obvious ogling might appear slightly lecherous. He sent a text to Mycroft.

_I have met an interesting person on this flight. Thank you greatly for this trip. SH_

He imagined Mycroft's face and felt pleased.

"Are you sneaking into the bathroom any time soon?" Sarah grinned.

"Shut up. He wants me to take a break with him," he said.

"Sexy," she smiled.

John rolled his eyes and swatted her arm.

"I'll give you a whole hour if you deal with that woman for the rest of the flight." As Sarah spoke the light went off.

"Yes! Thank you. I'll get that and then go." He kissed her cheek and went to help the woman before coming around to Sherlock. "I have one hour."

Sherlock smiled at John and then shifted over to the seat by the window so he could sit down. "I suppose this is our first date," Sherlock said. "How would you like to spend it -- showing me around the cabin?"

"No," John laughed. "That's boring. Tell me about yourself."

"I live in London in a very messy flat with a very nosy landlady. I have an obnoxious brother who works for the government and who sent me on this trip to visit a relative that he could not bother to visit," Sherlock said. "And I don't have friends, really. I suppose you'd say I'm more of an introvert -- except on transatlantic flights, apparently. And how about you?" 

John smiled. "I live in a small, neat flat. I used to be in the army, I was working in a surgery but I was bored so now I travel."

"So we both like adventures. That's helpful," Sherlock said. "And do you normally seduce strangers in the air?"

"All the time -- I'm honestly surprised I haven't been fired yet. I'm out of control," he grinned.

"I'm sure you can't help it," Sherlock said, looking at John's face. "I, on the other hand, am new to the in-flight seduction game. Yet I can't help thinking I wish we were locked in the toilet, getting to know each other better in a little privacy."

John met his gaze and licked his lips lightly. He knew that was crazy -- they had just met after all. They're complete strangers and yet . .. "That's a very pro move," John teased, smiling at him. 

Sherlock laughed. "More practical really," Sherlock said, "It's the only place with a lock since I'm presuming we can't send the pilots out of the cockpit."

"I meant suggesting that in general," John grinned. "Not that I'm opposed," he added with a small shrug. 

"I don't want you to get in trouble . . . I'm serious that I'd like to see you again after today," Sherlock said, his voice going a little quiet out of shyness.

"Sarah wouldn't mind," John said, but he made no move to get up. He didn't want to ruin this. "I was serious about seeing you too -- that was me texting you, in case you didn't realise," he smiled softly. 

"Really? I thought it was that guy over there," Sherlock said, motioning towards an old, fat rich man who was snoring loudly. "I was really looking forward to bringing him to my hotel room."

"Some guys have all the luck," John sighed dramatically, looking over at the man. 

"Do you snore?" Sherlock asked. "Just out of curiosity, of course."

"I don't know, no one has ever mentioned it before. You'll have to tell me," John said, meeting his gaze at the words even though his cheeks flushed lightly. 

"Cheeky," Sherlock said, "you look even more handsome when your face is flushed." He settled a bit more comfortably in his seat. "I'd offer to buy you a drink but then you'd just have to serve it so I hope you'll let me treat you once we arrive. You've not been around New York before? Where are your usual routes?"

"I've been all over around Europe," John smiled. "First time in America, though. A drink would be nice." He settled in as well, slouching a bit and looking over at Sherlock

"I wish you could believe how unusual this is for me," Sherlock said, putting his arm on the rest so it was nearer to John. "Do you have any thoughts on why I'm so particularly charmed?"

"Look at me," John teased. He shook his head and looked down at his hands. "I've no idea. I'm boring, honestly. I've never done this before." He looked back at Sherlock.

"Why are you doing it now?"

John's eyes moved over Sherlock's handsome face. "When you first came in . . .I don't know . . . something about you caught my interest. I seem to quite like you," he admitted. 

"You mean my face? Is it just that -- I mean ultimately haven't I just disrupted your day's work by obnoxiously demanding your attention?" Sherlock said. "Charm is not normally one of my strengths. Generally, what people notice about me tends to be more along the lines of cleverness, sarcasm and lack of appropriate social skills -- those are more my trademarks."

"Your cleverness is charming," John smiled. "I thought your demands were you trying to flirt," he said. "I was flirting."

"Well, they were, but I can also be obnoxious even when I'm not flirting," Sherlock confessed.

"That's okay. I can handle it." He sat up now and leaned towards Sherlock a bit.

"Good," Sherlock said. "And your worst qualities or are you perfect at all times?"

"I'm not perfect. I get bored, crave adventures, I have terrible nightmares and I like to eat all the time," he smiled. He pushed the arm up and leaned just a bit closer.

"Those things seem tolerable. I can take you to as many restaurants as you need and in America, they serve huge portions," Sherlock said. He smiled and touched John's hand.

"Sounds good," John said, taking hold of Sherlock's hand. He held his gaze. "I only have a half hour more," he murmured.

"This has been my favourite half hour of my trip so far," Sherlock said, smiling. "What shall we do for the second half? You'll need to eat, won't you?"

John nodded. "But I'm not able to until we land. This is my lunch hour."

"I'll gladly take you out, but if you're too tired, we could get lunch tomorrow? I appreciate this flight will have been a bit easier on me than on you," Sherlock said. He moved his fingers softly over John's.

"It hasn't been bad," John said, his thumb stroking Sherlock's hand. "I would like to go out with you." 

"Well, you never know, when I start to get sleepy, I may get even more obnoxious," Sherlock said, smiling. "Let me know at the end of the flight -- if you're still up for it, I'll get you a great dinner, I promise." 

"Okay. I'll remember that," John smiled. "We can have a meeting spot -- I have to check in at the airport before I leave," he explained. 

"Good. Should we meet at the airline's check in desk? I'll have to collect my bag. If you're up for it, we can stop at my hotel and drop off my stuff and then head out," Sherlock said. He sat back and looked out the window for a minute. "Um, I just realised, I don't know your surname. I'm starting to wonder if perhaps I actually fell asleep the minute we took off and I'm actually having a dream. I can imagine showing up waiting for you at the desk and saying, 'Yes, I'm looking for a man who said he'd meet me here. All I know about him is his name is John.' I think they'd think I was insane and totally gullible. So who are you, so-called John?"

"Watson," John smiled. "My name is John Watson. And you won't have to ask for me because I will be there. I'm really looking forward to it. I don't know what it is about you," he mused, tilting his head lightly as he studied Sherlock.  

"I certainly don't know either, but it seems we've both been affected by the other one," Sherlock said. "It's nice to meet you, John Watson." He smiled genuinely at him. He really was enjoying John's company, even if it was a little awkward trying to get to know each other in the middle of a crowded airplane. 

John laughed. "Yes, it is very nice to meet you, too. I'm glad you were forced to go on this trip."

"I am, too, but promise me you'll never tell my brother I said that," Sherlock said. He tried to imagine John meeting Mycroft and then wondered if perhaps that was a bit silly -- he's already imagining introducing John to his family? The connection he felt with this stranger really was . . . strange. But it felt good, and other people so rarely made Sherlock feel good.

"I promise." John grinned. "But if he's as formidable as you are making him sound then maybe you should mention I was completely respectable," he said with mock seriousness. 

"To be honest, he would be appalled at how un-respectable I've been acting this flight, which I confess I take great pleasure in," Sherlock said. "Do you have family?"

"I do but we haven't talked in a long time -- I have a sister," John admitted. 

"Hmm . . . I feel like there's probably a story there, but you can tell me over dinner later or lunch tomorrow or whenever you feel like it. Or not at all," Sherlock said. "I do have another question -- do you normally wear polyester or is it just a requirement of the job?" he smiled as he looked down at John's uniform.

"It's a requirement for the job," he smiled. "My usual -- well, I've been told it's no better," he laughed. 

"Well, you can change at the hotel if you want or if you don't want to, I'll still be happy to take you out, polyester and all," Sherlock said.

"I would like to change," John laughed. "I don't have much with me but I'm sure I can put something together for going out."

Just then Sarah came over and shook her head. "You've got five minutes and you've made no attempt for the bathroom -- impressive. Hate to break it all up but she's ringing again," she said, moving away. 

"I promised to deal with a difficult passenger for this hour," John explained, looking back at him. 

"All right," Sherlock said, glancing up at Sarah and trying to read her face. "Thanks for the chat," he said to John.

John smiled, pulling at arm rest down again. "I don't know how busy she'll have me, but I'll try and keep visiting," he said.

"Maybe I will try to rest so I don't get too belligerent. It'll buy me a little time before letting you see me at my worst," Sherlock said, smiling back.

John wanted to kiss him before he left, just something quick, but he chickened out because they were still strangers and it wouldn't look very good to the other passengers. "See you soon," he said, standing and moving around to the woman's seat. He went up to fix her tea and Sarah was staring at him.

"So that was really it?" 

John smiled. "There's more than quickies in the bathroom, you know."

"Oh," she grinned. John hit her arm again before giving the woman her tea, which was wrong and had to be remade. 

Sherlock settled into his seat and checked his phone.

_Just don't, Sherlock. MH_

Sherlock smiled at that. He liked knowing Mycroft was a bit worried. He wondered why he himself wasn't a bit worried. The interactions with John were so out-of-character for him -- it's one thing to be like this on the plane but now Sherlock was inviting him to his hotel room? This was so unusual, so not him -- why wasn't it bothering him more? Why wasn't he trying to figure it all out instead of sitting here with a stupid grin on his face? He honestly did not know and, for this moment at least, he decided he didn't care. 

Sherlock let himself go into his mind palace and he invited John in as well. There, they had known each other for years, didn't have questions like 'Do you have family' -- they already had the answers. For awhile, they didn't even speak and that was fine, it was good, it was comfortable. And then they kissed, which was not the kind of thing that usually happened in his mind palace, but John was clearly not the kind of person he usually met.

John made a new cup and brought it to her, moving back up to the front. He felt like a teenager -- his stomach flipping nervously, pulling out the little notes to read them over and over again --he had never met anyone who made him feel like that. He peeked out at Sherlock again and saw his eyes closed again and he found himself wondering where he always disappeared to. Perhaps he would ask later.

Sherlock was still lost in his mind palace, thinking about kissing and touching and other things, when there was a little bit of turbulence that brought him back to the here and now. It wasn't bad at all but he could hear people's reactions and he wanted to tell them to shut up, and then he thought of John who had to deal with people like that all the time. The fact that there was still a bit of kindness in John showed that his patience levels must be pretty good, which was beneficial for Sherlock as he was constantly being accused of trying people's patience. He watched John move about the cabin and smiled, imagining them together once they got to New York.

John moved around and made sure everyone was buckled up as they went through the bit of turbulence, bringing another snack to that woman and throwing smiles at Sherlock as he moved up and down the aisle. He couldn't wait for the flight to end. 

Sherlock was enjoying watching John -- not just because he was physically attractive -- but because he was reading him, seeing the way he moved, the way he interacted with different people. John probably had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn't help it -- this was just one way that Sherlock got to know people.

When the seatbelt light was of again John pulled out his cart and started serving drinks again and peanuts. "For you?" He asked Sherlock, giving him an extra bag.

"I'll have a short whiskey but could I also get a tea? Don't tell anyone, but I've got a date tonight I'm a little anxious about so the whiskey will take the edge off but I don't want to get too drunk or sleepy, as I'd really like to make a good impression," Sherlock said. He opened the peanuts and spread them out into a heart shape on his tray, before pulling a face at John.

"Look at the tricks up your sleeve," he grinned. "Are you always so charming?" He asked as he served the person behind Sherlock.

"Probably not," Sherlock said, "perhaps you'll find out in the next few days?"

John grinned wider and continued on, his stomach flipping happily.

Sherlock placed the whiskey in the middle of the peanut heart and the tea on the side. "Thank you, kind steward," he said as John moved on. He lifted the whiskey to his mouth and took a sip. He picked up his phone and read some things online to keep himself busy.

Finally John rolled the cart back and while he passed Sherlock's table he swiped his finger through the peanuts to mess up the heart. He grinned and stuck his tongue out as he disappeared behind the kitchen area.

Sherlock laughed and ate a few peanuts even though he didn't really care for them. He finished the whiskey and then picked up the mug of tea and held it for a while before taking a sip. He looked out the window, watching for the land to appear.

The seatbelt light came on again and John got on the phone to let everyone know they were beginning their descent. He asked them to lift their trays and bring their seats up, looking at Sherlock when he reminded them to turn of their electronics. He grinned and took his own seat, strapping in and looking out of the window.

"Fine, fine, fine," Sherlock mouthed, looking at John. He turned off his phone completely and followed all of John's directions. He looked out the window, waiting for it to end.

When the plane finally touched the ground John got up again and reminded everyone to stay seated until they were stopped and got ready to help people with their bags if they needed. 

Sherlock undid his seatbelt, just because he could, but he waited to stand up. There was probably only about a half hour between now and when he was supposed to meeting John, he didn't want to do anything to annoy him.

When the plane finally came to a stop at the gate, John informed everyone generally on how to get out or where to go to catch their next flight if this was just a connecting. Sarah opened the door, and he watched people scrambling to get their bags out. It was a good ten minutes before they all started out.

Sherlock stood and lifted his bag from under the seat in front of him. He waited, impatiently, for the rich businessmen and tourists around him to leave and then headed out himself. At the exit, he thanked Sarah and said to John, "I hope I'll see you shortly." He headed into the airport, adjusting to the sound of all the American voices. 

John nodded, ignoring the stupid grin Sarah threw his way. When everyone was finally off they went threw and cleaned up the seats, getting everything in proper order before it was properly cleaned. Then they fetched their bags from the overhead compartment near the pilot's room and headed out. John said goodbye to Sarah and headed for the information desk where he would meet Sherlock.


	3. Their First Night in New York

Sherlock nipped into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He collected his bag and moved to the information desk. When he saw John approaching, he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. He guided John out of the airport. He gave the taxi the hotel's address and soon they were pulling up in front. Although Sherlock had joked about its quality, it was, of course, ridiculously luxurious -- considering Mycroft had made all of the arrangements, he should have known it would be.  

"Wow," John breathed. "This is amazing. I -- do you want half for the room?" He felt nervous asking because he knew it suggested he'd be staying the night and therefore using the room as well. But it was so nice.

"Cheeky," Sherlock smiled. "Of course, you're welcome to stay -- there will be plenty of space . . . two beds . . . I'll be honest, John, I'm not paying for this. So no, I don't want your money. Then I'd be profiting from our date and that seems morally dodgy." He moved up to the front desk to check in, smirking when he noticed the clerk's quick glance at John. They walked to the lift and went up to the room. Sherlock was right: there was plenty of space. "Do you want a shower or anything before we go eat?"

"To be honest a shower sound fantastic," he admitted. "I'll be very quick."

"Would you rather eat in -- we could order something. It's totally up to you," Sherlock said. He really didn't care, he was just enjoying being around John and being able to interact with the audience of the other passengers.

"Yeah," John nodded. "Maybe we can go out when we can get a better feel of the city?"

"I've got a little idea," Sherlock said, taking one of the dressing gowns out of the closet and handing it over. "You have been serving people, including me, all day. How about you let me look after you this evening?" He handed John the hotel's menu. "I'll sort the food -- you take as long as you want in the shower. But I just want to say this: I'm not sure how long we'll know each other, but don't get too used to this. Looking after others is not my strongest suit."

"I had better take advantage, then," John smiled, taking the robe and disappearing into the bathroom. The shower was large and had several jets that felt excellent after being on his feet for so long.  He used the fancy soaps and wrapped himself up tightly in the robe, not wearing anything underneath. He hesitated going out like that, but he sucked up his nerves and just went back to the main room.

Sherlock was lying on the bed, having changed his own clothes into his pajamas. "You look even more handsome," he said spontaneously. How strange, here they are both ready for bed essentially. "The food will be here any minute. I've looked at the weather report for tomorrow -- it looks like it should quite bright and warm but not ridiculously hot. When are you flying home?"

"Not home just yet," John said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm working two more flights. Out to California and then back to London. After that I'll have two weeks before my next flight."

"Perhaps I could fly back with you and I could help find something for you to do during those two weeks?" Sherlock said, not sure why he was making that offer to someone he just met. Then there was a knock at the door. Sherlock went and returned with a cart full of food. "Dinner's here," he said. "Shall we eat on the beds? Why not, eh?"

"Back to London? Is that not where you're from?" John asked.

"Yeah, I mean, I could stay here while you go to California and then get on the flight you take back to London," Sherlock said. He carried a plate over to John, turning on the kettle as he passed. He moved back, poured a mug of tea which he set on the table next to John and then got his own plate. "Maybe it's too soon to say, but I would like to see you in London. In a more normal setting, though I fear though that you'll find me less charming in my natural surroundings."

"I severely doubt that," he grinned. "This all looks so good, Sherlock. I've never had anything so extravagant -- you're sure it's okay?"

"Of course. We can order you hundred bottles of champagne to bathe in, if you want," Sherlock said. He ate a bit of his dinner. "It is good, isn't it? No offense, but it's a hell of a lot better than that airline food you served me."

"Everything is better than airline food," John laughed. "I'm glad you found me interesting enough to share it with."

"I'm glad I found you, too," Sherlock said. He looked over at John and smiled. Then he reached for the remote and started flipping through the television channels. "I don't watch much telly at home but I like having it on in hotels. Well, I'm usually on my own then so I guess it's just the noise I like. I'm not sure there's anything I really feel like watching. Anything look interesting to you?"

"Just you," John grinned. "You can leave anything on, it'll just be background noise anyways." He finished up his plate and got up to put it on the tray, getting back into bed.

Sherlock left it on a news channel, but then stood up and moved to the mini bar. "Do you want a night cap? There's a beer and some wine and some little bottles . . . " he reached in, trying to see what they were.

"A beer, please," John said sitting up a bit to watch him. He put his head in his hand and grinned.

Sherlock pulled out a bottle and handed it to John. "It's American, I'm afraid." He poured himself a whiskey and then moved back. "Would you rather I get on the other bed?"

John shook his head. "Sort of defeats the purpose of my coming to your room," he smiled.

"Hmmm . . . I thought I was just offering you a comfortable place to sleep as I'm guessing this place is nicer than where the airline sets you up," Sherlock said. He moved over to the bed where John was and sat down, stretching his legs out. He turned to look at John. "I can tell you, John, I have never done anything like this in my life. I mean, we really don't know each other at all, but I just feel very comfortable with you." He took a sip of whiskey. "I don't expect anything, I don't, I just wanted to spend more time with you."

John smiled. "I've never done anything like this either, and while I'm not expecting anything either, I find I'm comfortable with you as well . . . whatever we do."

"All right then," Sherlock said. He smiled. He relaxed a little on the bed and then picked up his phone. He typed a few things and then handed the phone to John. "Here's where I'd like to take you to breakfast. Are there places you'd like to go? Do you want to see the Statue of Liberty or anything tourist-y?"

John smiled and nodded. "I would like to see it, but it'll be awfully crowded. How will you feel about that?" he asked. 

"It sounds like a nightmare," Sherlock said honestly. "But maybe we could take the ferry. I could probably tolerate that crowd and then you'd get a nice view. There's a lot we can see just going around the city, but if you want to go to any specific place, just let me know."

"Okay," John nodded. "The ferry will be just fine -- no sense doing something that is going to make one of us miserable," he grinned. "And really, we don't have to do much. If I hadn't met you I'd have been in my hotel room the whole time except for food. And maybe a walk at night for some air."

"I can show you a good time," Sherlock said, "Well, that sounds dodgy, but you know what I mean." He finished off his drink and the glass on the table. He pulled the covers down a little and slipped under them. He turned on his side to look at John. "Do you feel relaxed, comfortable, I mean?"

John laughed at his phrasing and put his beer down, crossing his feet at the ankles. "Yes, I do. What about you?" 

"Yes, which is strange as I hardly ever do," Sherlock said. He reached over and held John's hand.

John looked at their hands and laced their fingers, moving his own slowly over Sherlock's. He smiled and looked to Sherlock's face again. "I like you a lot more than I should considering you're practically a stranger," he half teased. 

"I know," Sherlock said. "It's odd. I'm not sure exactly what it means, but I hope it's good. It feels good." He leaned in a bit closer so their bodies were almost touching.

John shifted down, turning on his side so they were only centimeters apart. "It does feel good," John agreed, glancing at his lips. He's wanted to kiss Sherlock since his break on the flight, but he looked back up to his eyes to make sure that would be okay. 

Sherlock looked at John and then leaned in to kiss him -- a mix of urgency and a strange tenderness which kind of surprised him. He was no expert on sentiment, but while it did have the excitement of a first kiss, there was an also a sense of recognition as if they had been lovers long ago who were finally returning to each other. He rested his hand lightly on John's waist as he held the kiss.

John smiled into the kiss, pressing into it and bringing his hand up to Sherlock's neck. Warmth spread through his body and he knew that, stranger or not, this was right. It felt good. 

Sherlock moved his mouth to the rest of John's face and down to his neck, sucking softly. "This is nice," he said softly against John's skin.

John tilted his head and hummed his agreement. "Yes . . . it feels very good," he hummed, lacing his fingers into his hair. "I'm glad we waited for this and didn't lose ourselves and try for the cramped bathroom," he smiled. 

"Me too," Sherlock said. "It's much nicer here." He moved his body a little closer, sliding his arms around John's back, holding him. "You smell nice. Did you use up all the fancy pants stuff in the shower?"

John chuckled softly. "Almost. I may have got a bit carried away." He turned his head towards Sherlock's and pressed kisses against his temple, the only thing he could reach with Sherlock buried in his neck still. 

Sherlock licked up John's neck and nuzzled his ear. "I just want you to feel relaxed and looked after," he said softly.

John shivered lightly. "I am relaxed," he admitted. "But not because of the fancy soaps. Because of you," he murmured. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Why don't you turn over and let me rub your back?" He stroked John's arm, encouraging him to move around.

John leaned in and kissed him before turning over. "I'll rub your back after -- I feel like you're doing so much for me," he said. 

"Look, Watson -- you looked after me all day, didn't you?" Sherlock said lightly as he began to rub John's back through his dressing gown. "Besides, I told you, you're probably better off assuming this is a one-off deal. Take advantage of it." He rubbed up and down, nuzzling his face against John's head. "This material is quite thick. Do you want to take it off? You can cover up so you don't get cold."

"I . . . well . . .it was so cozy I didn't . . . I didn't actually put anything on," he admitted, burying his face into the mattress. 

"It's okay," Sherlock said. "I can rub through it, it's fine." He sat up a little and rubbed John's back and shoulders and then up into John's hair, scratching and stroking his scalp.

John hummed softly, never having thought that would feel so good. "You have lovely hands," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I meant to tell you that before."

"Thank you," Sherlock said because he wasn't really sure what else to say. He put some kisses onto John's neck and he continued to tangle his fingers in John's hair. He shifted a little closer to him, pressing his chest against John's shoulder.

John moaned softly, shifting to get closer to him. "This is so much better than the jets in the tub," he murmured. 

"Hmm, what were you up to with the jets in the tub? I wondered what all that noise was in there," Sherlock said, teasing.

"I didn't -- oh. Shut up," he grinned, hiding his face in the mattress again. "Why would I use shower jets when I have a perfectly good, sexy man in the room?"

"Excellent point," Sherlock said. "Is it my turn for a rub yet?"

"Yes," John said, shifting to get up before he changed his mind. 

Sherlock sat up and then lay flat on his belly. "But look, only do it if you like, don't try to make me feel good -- it's supposed to be me serving you, don't forget."

"Shh," John scolded playfully. He almost straddled Sherlock before remembering he was naked under his robe, so instead he scooted very close and started to knead his shoulders gently. 

"Mmmm, that feels good. God, it was uncomfortable in that plane all day -- no offense," Sherlock said. "It feels really good."

"Perhaps I should start rubbing down the passengers," he teased, moving to the middle of his back and using his fingers now. 

"No, just me," Sherlock said and then felt a little embarrassed because he felt a pang of jealousy for absolutely no appropriate reason what so ever. "Will you do my head a little, like I did to you?" he asked quietly.

John smiled. "Just you," he said quietly. He laced his fingers into Sherlock's hair and massaged his scalp lightly, dragging his nails lightly as he curled his fingers between kneading softly. 

"That feels good," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the feeling. He hated people touching his hair but the truth is he loved that feeling. He moved his head slightly against the movement of John's fingers. To be honest, the weight of John's body pressed against him was also making him a bit horny as well.

John shifted -- an instinct to get more comfortable -- but his knees only hit Sherlock's ribs lightly and before he could help it he sighed softly. "It does feel rather nice," he smiled, combing his fingers through his hair as he found a new place to massage.   

"All right," Sherlock said, wiggling himself a little to turn over. "You'd better stop because it feels too good and I'm supposed to be looking after you." He reached up his arms and pulled John down towards him, kissing his mouth again and running his hands down the back of John's robe.

John kissed him back, bending over to him. "Maybe making you feel good is what I want," he murmured against his lips before kissing him harder so he wouldn't argue. 

Sherlock lifted his head up into the kiss, moving his hands to the back of John's head to hold it. He pressed his tongue into John's mouth, before turning John's head slightly to deepen the kiss.

John put one hand beside Sherlock's shoulder to keep himself up as he pressed closer, humming into the deeper kiss. His free hand held Sherlock's cheek, and then slid to his neck, fingers curling lightly. 

Sherlock nipped at John's bottom lip before going back for the kiss. His fingers spread through the hair on the back of John's hair. Without his even thinking about it, his hips pressed slightly up against John.

Unable to help himself any longer he moved to straddle Sherlock, putting both hands on his chest and gripping lightly as he settled over him. 

"What are you doing, John? What are we going to do?" Sherlock whispered softly as he looked up at John.

"I . . .sorry," he mumbled, sitting up a bit. "I thought . . .well, I just couldn't kiss you properly from the side."

"I'm not complaining," Sherlock said smiling at him. He pulled John down towards him, reaching up to kiss him again.

John kissed him back, softer this time. "What do you want to do?" he asked quietly between kisses. 

"I want us to take the rest of our clothes off," Sherlock said softly. He was a little anxious but it was true, it was what he wanted -- to feel John's bare skin against his own. 

John sat up a bit and looked down at him, his hands moving to push his pajama shirt over his head. He shrugged out of his robe so it pooled around his waist and over Sherlock's thighs.

Sherlock lifted his hips to get his pajama bottoms off. John's body looked gorgeous and Sherlock reached up again to pull him close, turning them so they were on their sides, lying face to face. His arms slid around John's back and he tangled their legs as he kissed John's mouth again, moaning softly at the pleasure of skin on skin.

Now they were both completely naked, and Sherlock reached down to shift John's robe off the bed. He then leaned towards John, pressing his chest against him as he moved his legs from John's. He let one hand slide down John's chest and belly before he wrapped his fingers around John's cock and held it as he continued to kiss John hard.

John sighed loudly through his nose so he wouldn't have to break away, moving his hand to hold Sherlock's cock as well. He stroked very slowly and gently, moaning into the kiss.

Sherlock's hand moved slowly at first, touching the soft skin, before gripping a little tighter and starting a steady stroke. He moved his mouth to John's neck where he kissed and then sucked harder, moving down to John's collarbone.

John moaned and tilted his head, gripping Sherlock harder. "You feel so good, he murmured. 

"I want you to feel good, John," Sherlock said. "I just want to make you feel good." He continued kissing and stroking.

John nodded, moving to find his lips again, kissing him hard as he stroked faster. 

"That's good," Sherlock said. He could feel the wetness on John's cock, and his fingers helped spread it and smoothed his movement.

John moaned softly in response. "It feels . . .fantastic," he breathed. His hips were rolling now, bucking into Sherlock's hand. 

"John," Sherlock said, his own hips moving hard against John's hand. "I'm going to come soon -- it just feels so good."

"Me too . . .m'so close," John panted. He swiped his thumb over Sherlock's tip, smearing the precome so his hand could move faster. 

Sherlock bit softly into John's neck and then sucked in the skin. He let his hips move freely, still pumping John's cock. "God, John, now, it's . . ." and suddenly he felt himself spill into John's hand. He exhaled sharply as his body froze for a moment and then he did his best to keep his hand moving as he squeezed shut his eyes and tried to catch his breath.

"Gorgeous man," John moaned softly, calling out as he came. He continued stroking Sherlock, his movements a bit jerky as his orgasm ripped through him. 

Sherlock kept up his movements as John's orgasm hit, eventually slowing and then stopping. He rolled over flat on his back, still working to catch his breath and then turned back towards John, reaching over to give him a soft kiss on the mouth. "I hope that was okay," he said quietly.

"Amazing," John breathed, pecking kisses on his lips. "For you too, I hope," he murmured. 

"Yes, for me too," Sherlock said. He curled against John a little, moving his head against John's shoulder. "I wasn't lying when I said I don't normally do this kind of thing. And I don't just mean with a stranger I met on an airplane. I'm not great with other people, I don't normally . . . share anything with someone else." Sherlock wasn't sure these were great things to be saying at this moment, but it was like his orgasm had loosened his lips. "I just mean, thank you, thank you for that. It felt good."

John pet his hair as he spoke, catching his breath properly. "I'm not going to push you, or take advantage of you, or hurt you," he said quietly.

"I want to keep knowing you -- I don't want it to be just here," Sherlock said, still not lifting his head.

John kissed the top of his head. "I don't want it to be just here, either."

"Good," Sherlock squeezed him. Then he pulled back just a bit and said, "I need the bathroom." He stood up and grabbed one of the hotel robes and went into the bathroom. He cleaned himself up, went to the toilet and then splashed some water on his face. He went back in, grabbed two glasses and a bottle of water and got back into the bed.

"Thanks," John smiled, taking the bottle and pouring a glass. "So . . . when are you seeing your relative?" 

"I don't know yet," Sherlock said. "I'll ring them tomorrow and see what their plans are. To be fair, I should ring my brother to see what the ultimate purpose of this trip actually was. I doubt it's simply a friendly visit. Maybe I could schedule that visit in the days while you fly to California and then we could just spend your time here together. I mean, if you wanted to, I don't know what your other plans are."

"I told you I don't have any plans," John smiled. "I don't want to impose on you, but I also selfishly want to spend every second with you."

"I know you said that," Sherlock said, "I'm just trying to give you opportunities to change your mind. I don't want you to -- I hope you can tell -- but you seem like the type who might be too nice for his own good." He smiled at John. "But if you really mean you'd like to spend the time with me, I'd really like that." He leaned in and gave him a quick kiss.

"I am not too nice!" John laughed. "Though I did let a stranger carry me off to his room," he teased.

"That's what I mean, perhaps you're not totally in your right mind -- I just want you to know you're free to escape at anytime," Sherlock said.

John leaned down and kissed him. "I'm fine," he smiled. "I promise."

"Good," Sherlock said, kissing him back. "You're more than fine, you're lovely." He moved back a little. "Are you sleepy?"

"I am just a bit," he said. "You?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, "it's been an unusual day, hasn't it?" He sat up and grabbed his phone. "Should I set the alarm? I'd better put this on the correct time, it's close to 4am in London. Actually I think I'll text my brother to let him know I've arrived. I wouldn't want him to worry." He quickly sent the text.

_I am in America. I am not alone. Good morning, Mycroft. SH_

"Don't set the alarm. I don't know about you but I like to sleep in," he smiled. He leaned on his shoulder to see what his brother was going to say. 

"Well, we might sleep all day since our timing's off, but that's fine with me," Sherlock said, setting his phone on the table. It vibrated. He opened the text but it was blank. "That's my brother's way of saying he loves me," he said, putting the phone back on the table. He picked up the remote and turned the television low but not off, then he turned off the lamp and rolled over to face John. "Good night, John Watson," he said.

John smiled and pecked a kiss on his mouth, curling close to him. "Good night, Sherlock." He yawned loudly and closed his eyes, thinking about taking a shower when he woke up since he'd hadn't cleaned himself up. He felt a bit embarrassed about it now, but Sherlock was still sleeping with him so maybe he hadn't really thought about it. He drifted off in the middle of these thoughts. 

Sherlock listened to the sounds in the room -- the telly, the occasional noise in the hallway, John's breathing and his own. For a moment, he got paranoid but he quickly talked himself out of the panic that perhaps John would murder him in the night. Sherlock was good at reading people; he obviously read John right in thinking he could be trusted. He had read John right. Sherlock's brain started to relax and he slept.


	4. Their First Morning in New York

When John woke up the next morning, light was streaming in through the window and he wished they had thought to pull the curtain shut. He buried his face between Sherlock's ribs and the bed, wondering how he'd slipped down so low. He sighed as he let his brain catch up a bit. 

Sherlock reacted with surprise at John's movement, but then remembered why there was another person in his bed. "What's going on?" he said, sleepily.

"Light," John mumbled, draping his arm over Sherlock's belly so he wouldn't get up. 

Sherlock pulled the cover over John's head and then slid out of bed naked and moved over to close the drapes. Then Sherlock got back into bed. "Better, you big baby?" he said.

"Didn't want you to go," he mumbled, turning to smile up at him. "M'not a baby," he said before yawning. "Did you sleep okay?"

"I'm back now, big baby, are you worried about seeing me in the light -- have you forgotten with whom you went to bed last night?" Sherlock teased.

John pinched his rib lightly and chuckled. "No, I did not forget. I am still stunned I managed to snag such a handsome man, though." 

"As you should be. To be honest, now that I see you in the light of day out of your polyester outfit, I'm beginning to wonder if I've made some terrible mistake. Would you mind putting your uniform back on for me?"

"What do you have some kind of kink?" John grinned. "I didn't realise that you were just pulling me into your sex games!"

"Shut your cute face," Sherlock said. "Are we getting up or staying in bed?"

"That depends -- you're asking for outfits now and I'm thinking you want to stay here and play," he continued teasing. 

"Be serious," Sherlock said. "What do you want to do?"

"Don't be grumpy," John said, kissing his cheek. "I have to take a shower," he added, sitting up and stretching. 

"I'm not grumpy or at least I won't be after I have my tea. I'll make it while you're in the shower, and then we'll decide what to do, yeah?" Sherlock said, smiling.

"Okay," John smiled back. He wrapped himself up in the sheet as he got up and went into the bathroom. He set the temperature of the water and climbed in, grinning as he turned all of the jets on again. He used up the rest of the small bottles of shampoo and got out, drying off quickly and trying to smooth out his hair. He wrapped the sheet around himself again and headed back into the room. 

"Now, you're putting me to shame," Sherlock said, smiling as he handed John some tea. "You look quite refreshed. Refreshed to go out or to get back into the bed?" He pulled a little on the sheet, but not enough to take it off John.

John stepped closer to him, standing between his knees. "Bed for now, I think. We can get up and go out for dinner if you want," he smiled. "I'm sure we can think of something to do."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Let me clean up first." Sherlock went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He quickly jumped in the shower but John had used all the shampoo, so he couldn't wash his hair. He came back out and got into bed with John. "You still feel okay about everything?" he asked as he curled up against him.

John nodded. "Sorry I used all the shampoo," he smiled, ruffling Sherlock's hair. "They'll give more when we're out and then I'll wash your hair," he said, kissing his head. 

"So we're back to you serving me?" Sherlock asked. "That sounds quite nice actually." He leaned over and kissed John softly.

John kissed him back, curling his fingers in his hair. "More like . . . taking care of you," he murmured between kisses. He moved to Sherlock's jaw and kissed down to his neck, sucking the skin softly. 

Sherlock had a feeling this phrase would have bothered him in the past but for some reason it didn't this morning. John's kissing felt good, and he leaned back and relaxed, letting John's mouth move across him. "That feels good," he said softly, lifting his hands to hold John's sides.

John hummed softly and sucked a bit harder, nipping lightly as he moved to Sherlock's collarbone. His hand curled around Sherlock's waist, rubbing lightly as he kissed him. 

"John, I could get used to this every morning," Sherlock said, gripping John's sides and pulling him closer. He dipped his chin to kiss the top of John's head.

John smiled at 'every morning' and moved to the middle of his chest, kissing and licking the skin there. He couldn't get enough of this man. "I could as well," he murmured. 

John's mouth tickled a bit but at the same time, his skin against Sherlock's was so sexy because he rarely ever felt someone so close to him. He moved his hands across John's back, feeling the curves of his muscles.

John reached down and palmed at Sherlock's cock while he turned his mouth's attention to his nipple.

"Fuck," Sherlock said instinctively. "Sorry," he mumbled, smiling down at John, "that just feels good." He slipped one hand to John's head and lost his fingers in his hair.

"Don't be sorry," he murmured. "I like that I make you lose your head." He grinned and blew cool air on the wet spot he'd made.

"Well, losing my head doesn't come entirely naturally to me," Sherlock said, "I'm much more likely to get lost inside my head." He looked down at John and added, "But I like how you make me feel."

John smiled. "Well, that's good," he said. He moved to kissing his stomach now, liking how it twitched lightly under his lips. His hand continued to palm rhythmically. "I think we're going to get messy again," he murmured.

"Then we'll just have to have showers again," Sherlock said, grinning stupidly. "I don't want to stop."

"Good, I don't either," he murmured, breathing a small laugh over his navel. He gripped Sherlock's cock properly and stroked.

Sherlock pushed his head back into the pillow and let out a low moan. He supposed this is what John meant about losing his head -- it certainly wasn't a noise he usually made. But it felt so good, being touched by John who seemed somehow to know just what to do. "John," Sherlock exhaled, just to say his name.

John hummed in reply before kissing along his shaft. "Maybe we won't get messy after all," he murmured, sucking him into his mouth and bobbing slowly up and down.

"Fuck," Sherlock said again. It'd been a really long time since Sherlock had felt that feeling. "It's good, John," he said because it was -- the warm wetness of John's mouth on him was almost too much. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "God," he said again, trying to keep a little control of his body meant he seemed to have less control over what came out of his mouth. 

John hummed happily and swirled his tongue along the bottom, pressing gently into the glans as he moved. His hand rubbed his thighs gently, scraping his balls lightly on his skin.

God, the feeling was good. Sherlock couldn't think of any words to express how good it felt -- he made noises he had no control over and moved his body in response to John's touches. Finally, he made words and said, "John, I don't know how much more . . . you're so good . . .." He slid his hand down his body just to reach some part of John, just to connect with him.

John opened his mouth a bit more and properly swallowed him down, bobbing again with deeper movements. He loved the sounds Sherlock was making, loved that he was the one causing them. He wanted to finish him off, to be the reason he was pushed over the edge. He was hot and heavy in John's mouth, and it so good. 

Sherlock's hips started to rock against the movement of John's mouth. He could feel the tension start to fill everywhere in his body, and his fingers gripped John's hair. Suddenly the tension exploded and he came into John's mouth, his hips lifting up to meet John who was the one who had caused all this -- it was all John and his mouth. Sherlock's body flopped back on to the mattress and he panted heavily, unable to say any words.

John came up to accommodate Sherlock thrusting into his mouth, swallowing around him and stroking what he didn't have in his mouth as Sherlock came. When he flopped back down John pulled off gently and lay on his thigh, smiling and stroking his lower stomach. "You're so gorgeous."  

Sherlock exhaled a laugh and then said, "I can't take any responsibility for that little spectacle. That was all you." He looked down and reached out one of his hands, saying, "Come up here and get by me." 

John smiled wider and crawled up to him, laying down beside him with his head on his shoulder instead. He wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist, his thumb rubbing lightly. "I can only enjoy it," he said.  

"And did you enjoy that?" Sherlock said, his hand reaching down to John's hard cock. "Well, it appears you did," he said cheekily as he began to stroke him. He reached over and kissed John's mouth, leaning over his body.

"I did enjoy it," he murmured, arching into his hand. "You tasted lovely," he smiled. 

"I wonder what you taste like," Sherlock said. He moved lower on the bed, trailing his tongue down the center of John's chest and belly. He licked a stripe up John's cock and then continued licking the sides, swirling his tongue across the tip. He licked down the line where John's legs met his body, spreading his tongue across his inner thighs before dipping to swipe it across John's balls. He moved back to John's cock. He lifted it with one hand and tipped it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue again, this time adding a little bit of suction.

John moaned softly, and bit his lip, arching off the bed a bit but keeping his hips down. "Your mouth feels…" he murmured, the warmth and the wetness easy to get lost in. His head was swimming, small noises escaping his throat. 

Sherlock moved his other hand to between John's legs, massaging his thighs first, occasionally holding and lightly pulling John's balls. His mouth kept moving on John's cock, opening his throat to take him further in. He started a rhythm moving all the way down, pulling up before he started to gag, and then moving down again. 

"Christ," John moaned loudly, lifting his head to watch him. He laced his fingers into Sherlock's hair, petting his head as he fell back again with a sigh. "I'm close."

Sherlock felt himself getting hard again -- how could that be so soon after that tremendous orgasm? -- but John's noises were so sexy and he tasted so good. He looked up at John's handsome face and then focused again on moving his mouth on him, stroking his legs and balls as well. He sped up all his movements and prepared himself for John's orgasm.

"God . . .Sherlock, I'm--" The words cut as he came, his orgasm rocking through his body. He bucked up before he could stop himself, gripping Sherlock's hair and the bed tightly as he called out for him, murmuring his name over and over again. 

Sherlock swallowed down what he could and licked the rest of it from off of John's belly. He crawled up next to John and pressed against him, just stroking John's chest lightly with his fingertips as John caught his breath. "See?" he asked softly. "Not too messy."

John felt Sherlock licking up his belly and he tried to picture it, not having the energy to look up to see. "That was good," he smiled. "You were so good." He brought his hand slowly to Sherlock's head and pet his hair gently. 

"I think we are a good match," Sherlock said, hoping it was okay to say that since he left it sufficiently vague. He pushed his head slightly into John's moving hand.

"I agree," John smiled softly, petting his hair properly now. "I feel very good with you -- even when I'm not having orgasms," he grinned. 

"Good, because I don't know how often I can keep up this track record," Sherlock said, smiling. "I might break under pressure." He kissed John on the forehead and stroked his arm.

"We're like teenagers," John chuckled softly.

"It's okay, isn't it? I mean, I know we're not teenagers, but it's been all right, yeah?" Sherlock said, still stroking John's arm. He hated feeling insecure -- it was such a human feeling and he normally tried to steer away from those, but John was bringing out so much that wasn't normal for Sherlock.

"It's very okay," John said, looking up at him. "You make me feel alive, happy, young," he grinned. "Tired, but for good reasons," he added teasingly. 

"Well, let's lie here for a bit longer and plan our day. Then we can clean up, get dressed and go get something to eat," Sherlock said. He picked up his phone and started looking up time and addresses for places he wanted John to see.

"You're so handsome when you take charge," John laughing, dropping his head on his shoulder again to watch what Sherlock was doing on his phone. 

"Shush now," Sherlock said. He fiddled with the phone, showing John options and making a little plan for the day. He kissed John and then stood up and stretched. "All right, lazy man, let's get our day started," he said.

"Yes, sir," John grinned, laughing lightly as he went into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and cleaned up a bit before coming out and getting dressed, putting on faded jeans and a black and white long sleeve shirt. "Better than the polyester, yeah?" he smiled. 

"Definitely," Sherlock said, leaning over and giving him a kiss. "Very sexy, actually," he said as he headed into the bathroom. He washed and got dressed and then came back out. He tidied his stuff up and then they headed out for breakfast. Sherlock took them to a little diner, not too far from the hotel.

"I hope you like this," he said, grabbing a small booth for them. "I try to come here every time I'm in New York."

"It must be good then," John smiled. He looked through the menu and found a nice omelet combo. "It's crowded here, like London. Feels a bit like home," he said. 

"Except more loud American voices," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes at the family sitting behind them. They ordered their food and Sherlock grimaced at the tea. "So," he said, "if we hadn't met, how would you have spent the next few days?"

"Ordering out and watching bad hotel telly," he grinned. "Sarah might have dragged me out to a bar, but I'm sure she doesn't want me tagging along. How long is your actual trip anyways?"

"Are you and she just colleagues or . . . friends or . . .?" Sherlock asked.

"She's my wife," John said seriously, grinning when he saw Sherlock's face. "No, I'm sorry," he said quickly, reaching for his hand. "We're just friends. We went on one date but that was a long time ago when I was still figuring some things out."

Sherlock's face relaxed after John's joke, which had for a second thrown him. "All right then," Sherlock said, taking another sip. "To go back to your earlier question, I don't think my trip has a certain length. I've got a feeling I'm picking something up for my brother and I presume that the minute I get that, I'm free to go."

"Does he usually send you on secret missions?" John asked, slightly amused as he ate his breakfast. 

"He does on occasion," Sherlock said. "Basically the thing with my brother is that he always has an ulterior motive. Most of the time, I find it easiest not to care," he said as the server brought the food. He smiled to thank her and started to eat.

"Well, he sounds charming -- can't wait to meet him," he said. "I mean -- well, you know what I mean," he said quickly. 

Sherlock smiled. "Perhaps you will one day, but I think there are a lot of other parts of our lives we can share first," he said.

John looked up at him and smiled softly. "Yeah? I suppose there is," he said. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, we've not gone swimming together. Or baked a pie together. We should probably do those two things before you meet my brother," he said, smiling. "I guess I mean, I'd like to get to know you more and you should get to know me, you know, come to my flat, just find out more about each other, I guess," he tried to explain. He felt like an idiot.

John grinned. "We can go swimming at the hotel pool," he said. He looked down and mixed his food a bit, nervous. "Um . . .can I ask you something a bit . . . crazy?"

"Um . . . do you mean crazy as in, I should be taking notes to report these details to the police, or just crazy?" Sherlock said, smiling. "I'm teasing -- go ahead."

John rolled his eyes but smiled anyways, a bit more relaxed. "It's not really a question. I um . . .I would go back to my surgery job to stay in London if you're serious about making this work -- about properly seeing each other." He looked down at his food again. "I know that's crazy but . . . but we can hardly go on dates if I'm flying all over the place."  

"John, that's pretty big," Sherlock said, looking down at his food. He didn't know what else to say -- he had thought about seeing John once they got home, he wanted to and assumed they would, and John's job would mean that would be hard to do. But still . . . that was a big responsibility that might put pressure on the relationship. Sherlock realised too much time had passed in silence. "That's big," he said, because it was all he could think to say.

"I know, I'm sorry," he said, glancing up. God, what was wrong with him? They'd known each other for two days and he was already talking like that? "I don't have to now -- I mean, I'll have breaks and stuff and . . . and we don't even have to see each other every break if you don't want to. Or ever again. I'm sorry." 

Sherlock reached across the table and touched John's hand. "Don't apologise. Of course, I want to see you again, I want to see you all the time. But I . . . I am a difficult person to be around. Right now, this is not usual -- we're not in a usual place, everything is new and exciting and I'd hate for you to make major life changes and then find out that I'm . . . too difficult." He smiled and then looked down at his food again, still touching John's hand.

John looked at their hands as he spoke again. "I don't think you could be too difficult for me to handle," he said quietly. "I know difficult -- I've seen it in my sister and her relationships and I don't think that'll be you."

"That's just because you've been seduced by my good looks and excellent blowjob skills," Sherlock said, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's just enjoy this before we start thinking about . . . that." He squeezed John's hand and then moved his back to pick up his fork. "Your food okay? It's an incredibly obnoxious amount, isn't it? But I won't judge if you do actually eat it all," he said, smiling.

"Well now that you've mentioned it, I'll probably never be able to eat in front of you again. I might even take up running, but that's not because of what you said," he said in mock seriousness, trying to keep a straight face.  

"I have a feeling you'll get over your fear of eating," Sherlock said. "Why would you take up running? You're already fit. Very fit," he added. 

"Because you called me fat!" John laughed.

"I didn't call you fat. In fact, I just said you were fit. Do you need your hearing tested? Are we having our first fight, John?" Sherlock said, pulling a face at him. 

"I meant before the fit comment, you goof," he smiled. "I was merely explaining!"

"Just don't take up running and eat whatever you want," Sherlock said. "I don't mind having a pig for a boyfriend, I'm completely fine with that." He pushed his plate towards John and added, "Here, do you want mine as well?" He smiled. "Is our fight over now? Who won?"

"I always win," John grinned, pushing his plate back.

"Hmmm . . . that could be problematic as I very rarely lose," Sherlock said.

"I never lose," John insisted.

"Then, I suppose we shouldn't have any more fights," Sherlock said. "Besides, if you keep eating like that, you'll have a weight advantage over me and I'll be easily overpowered." He pulled another face and then laughed.

John laughed and kicked him lightly under the table. "There, that's the last fight," he smiled.

"Fine," Sherlock said. "I'm glad that's over." Then he kicked back just a little, as if he was getting in the last word. "You're handsome," he said softly. "I'm glad we met, John Watson."

"Because I'm handsome or because you like me?" John teased. 

"Mainly because I like you. The fact that you're handsome just makes it easier -- that way I don't have to close my eyes and picture someone else when we're kissing," he said, kind of surprising himself that he felt relaxed enough to make silly jokes.

"Oh, well, good, because if we were both doing that, it would be pretty awkward," John grinned.  

Sherlock laughed. He really did like John -- he liked that John was neither freaked out or intimidated by him, as people tended to be. He finished up his meal and then suggested that they get on their way.


	5. Their First Afternoon in New York

Sherlock led John around New York, pointing out some of the more tourist attractions and sharing some of his own memories of previous visits. As they walked, Sherlock grabbed John's hand and turned to him and smiled.

John laced their finger and smiled up at him. "This is a much better use of my time than mindless telly all day."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Sherlock said. He really was; he normally didn't care a lot about others' feelings but he really did want John to enjoy himself. They headed to the ferry and took [**the Statue of Liberty cruise**](http://www.statuecruises.com/). Sherlock enjoyed watching John, taking in the city and all it had to offer.

"Are we really going to go swimming tonight or was that just talk?" John asked, closing his eyes to enjoy the strong breeze on his face.

"That was just talk," Sherlock said. "Do I look like a swimmer? What would you like to do tonight?"

"You do look like a swimmer!" John smiled, opening his eyes again. "I think you'd look sexy in the water. But we can do something similar. I remember promising to wash your hair? Maybe we can take a bath." 

"All right, that's a fair compromise," Sherlock said. "We had a late breakfast, well, it was really a late lunch, given our extracurricular activities when we got up, what do you want to do for dinner?"

"Would you mind if we just ordered something to the room?" 

"No, that's completely good with me," Sherlock said, smiling. He looked around and then quietly said, "Look, John. I don't mean to be forward -- I really don't have any expectations, but just in case, should we stop at a shop on the way back to the hotel? . . . I don't usually carry . . . 'supplies' on me and just in case, I'd like us to be safe . . ." He felt quite stupid asking this, even though it did mean he was being responsible, but it was quite awkward talking about these things. Especially in public. On a ferry full of tourists. But now he'd said it and that was that.

John leaned a bit closer and nodded. "I think we should pick some things up because I don't know what's going to happen and I want us to be safe as well," he said quietly. "No pressure, of course, but just in case."

"All right, that's a good idea," Sherlock said -- somehow acting like John had thought of it made him feel less awkward. He reached over and squeezed John's hand. They took a cab back and got out to walk part of the way. "Should we just find a chemists or do you want to do to a 'specialist' shop?" he asked, raising his eyebrows cheekily.

"Anywhere is fine unless you have some other things planned that I am not aware of," he grinned even though his cheeks flushed lightly at the thought. 

"Obviously, I don't really plan my seductions, do I?" Sherlock said, grinning. "If I did, we wouldn't be needing to make this stop." He headed in and went to the pharmacy area. "Do you have any preferences?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light so it didn't betray how awkward he felt.

John shook his head. "Just the regular latex box is fine," he said. "Unless you prefer something specific," he added, looking through the options. 

"No, that's fine," Sherlock said, "and maybe some of this?" he asked, handing John a bottle of lube.

John bit his lip. "Can we get the warming one?" 

"All right then," Sherlock said. "Any one or are you brand loyal?" He was smiling.

"Any one," he smiled. "The warming one feels better."

Sherlock grabbed a bottle and they headed to the counter to pay. They went back to the hotel. The room had been cleaned and restocked. Sherlock put the bag in the drawer of the nightstand and turned the kettle on to make some tea. He plopped onto the bed and said, "We did a lot of walking today. I don't think I'm wearing ideal shoes for that." He kicked them off and rubbed his socked feet together.

"I'm going to start a hot bath, okay?" he said, moving into the bathroom. He liked that the tub was big enough to fit the both of them. It would be snug but cozy. As it filled he came back into the room to take his clothes off. 

"It'll feel nice," Sherlock said, taking a sip of his tea. "Are we getting into our pajamas after?"

"Let's wait and see," he said, smiling at him. "Now come along before the tub overflows." He tugged Sherlock into the bathroom and climbed in first, pressing his feet against the sides so Sherlock could get in between his legs. "Come on."

Sherlock grabbed his dressing gown and slipped off his clothes. He stepped into the tub. "Jesus Christ, it's hot," he said, but as soon as he got used to it, it actually felt quite good. "Do you think there's room for me to sit face-to-face?"

"Yes, but you'll be far away," John said. "Slouch a bit and lay on my chest." When Sherlock did that John rubbed his arms under the water, smiling at how nice his skin felt. Then he gently soaked Sherlock's hair, grabbed the shampoo and squirted a bunch of it into his hand. He lathered it between his palms before pressing his fingers into Sherlock's head, massaging gently. 

"That feels quite nice." He leaned back and relaxed. "You're really nice to me," he said softly.

John smiled and moved his hands slowly to make sure he was actually washing Sherlock's hair, disguising it as a lovely massage. 

Sherlock slid his hands down John's legs and held his thighs as he let John fuss with him. The warm water felt good -- he realised he still was feeling a little jetlagged. He relaxed, feeling almost as if he could fall asleep.

John lay his head back against the wall and hummed softly at the soft touches. "Feels nice in here," he murmured. 

"Mmmm," Sherlock said in agreement. "Do you want me to wash your hair?" Hearing those words come out of his mouth almost shocked him -- he had never offered this to anyone else in the world and had never imagined he ever would. Yet here he was, saying it to a person he had only met a day ago. Strange. But good.

John shook his head. "I did already today," he murmured. "And besides, if we stand now it'll be cold," he smiled. He started scooping water up to rinse Sherlock's head, still massaging lightly. 

"All right then," Sherlock said, letting John continue to fuss with him. Once his hair was rinsed, he said, "This is definitely better than swimming. Swimming is for fools." He pressed against John a bit and squeezed his thighs again.

"Hey, I love swimming," John countered, petting his hair back now. The soap was out, but he was just enjoying touching it.

"Well, then I guess we should break up because I despise swimming." Sherlock moved slightly away from John. "Well, it was good while it lasted. Goodbye," he teased.

John flicked his fingers to flick water on Sherlock's face. "Well, that's what I think about that," he grinned.  

Sherlock rubbed his eyes. "Great, now I can't see. Thanks a lot. First you break my heart by being a secret swimmer and then you blind me. You've definitely made a lasting impression, John Watson." Sherlock said, smiling. "Are we getting out now?"

"Sure," John nodded, kissing his cheek. "Are you happy you got some fancy soap, too?"

"Yes, though I should have clarified I didn't want it in my eye," Sherlock said. He held onto the side of the tub as he stood up, reaching for the towels. He wrapped himself in one and handed the other to John.

John smiled as he stood up, wrapping the towel around himself. "I can't wait to get in bed . . . it's chilly," he said.

"It is," Sherlock said, grabbing his robe and heading to the bed. He dropped the towel and robe and climbed under the covers. "My brother is annoying in many ways, but he does have excellent taste in hotels. These sheets are so soft." He wiggled his legs around under the covers.

John grinned as he followed Sherlock, drying his hair before ditching the towel and climbing into bed. He snuggled under the overs and grinned. "I've been so spoiled I don't know what I'll do in California."

"Perhaps you will find another interesting man on that flight and you can wash his hair," Sherlock said. He tried to keep his voice light, but in his heart he really didn't like that idea one bit.

"Unless you end up on my California flight as well, you don't have to worry about that," John grinned.

Sherlock smiled and turned over and looked at John. "Well, here we are again," he said softly.

"Here we are," John smiled. He reached out and touched Sherlock's cheek, pushing his hair back.

"Are we having a rest before we eat?" Sherlock yawned a little and curled up as if he were going to go to sleep.

"Looks like you want to," he smiled, petting his hair.

"Turn over and let me spoon you," Sherlock said. He curled around John and slid his arms around his belly. "Go to sleep now, I'll look after you," he said. He traced a finger softly around John's belly.

"Am I in danger?" John teased, closing his eyes anyways because this was so warm and comfortable.

"Not with me here," Sherlock said. He moved one of his hands done to John's cock. It was soft and warm. He wrapped his fingers around and held it as he started putting soft kisses across the top of John's bare shoulder.

John felt heat flood down to his groin. "Can't sleep like that," he murmured, covering Sherlock's hand so he wouldn't stop.

"Shhh, I'm already asleep. Hush now," he said as he kept moving his mouth across John's back. He held John's cock in one hand. He lifted the other one to John's chest, rubbing one of his nipples. Sherlock started slowly rocking his own hips against John's body.

John panted softly, not knowing which way to arch, loving every little touch he felt on his body.

Sherlock felt John's cock stiffen in his hand and he began a slow, steady stroke. He rocked his hips in the same rhythm, his own cock getting hard as well. He nipped at John's skin. "You taste a bit soapy," he said softly, dragging his tongue across his shoulder.

"I-I was washing this handsome man before," John murmured, rolling his hips lightly. He stuffed his hand behind himself to hold Sherlock's cock. It was a bit awkward but he stroked slowly.

"Turn around," Sherlock said and when John did, Sherlock kissed him hard and long on the mouth. He kept stroking John and rocking his own cock into John's hand.

John returned the kiss hungrily, sliding a hand into his hair as the other stroked harder. He felt hot and alive -- Sherlock was like a drug to his brain and his body.

"John," Sherlock moaned against John's mouth. "That feels good." The movement of their bodies rocked the bed gently and Sherlock's skin felt hot against John's.

John hummed his agreement and swiped his thumb over the tip, trying to control his breathing a bit. "Do you want to use the things we bought?" he asked softly.

"I would," Sherlock said. "You?"

"I would as well," John nodded. He shifted and grabbed the lube first, figuring they'd get the condoms when it got closer. "Have you used the warning lube before?"

"No," Sherlock said, "unlike some in this bed apparently, I'm not a connoisseur."

John glanced up, worried he was actually upset about that before pouring a bit in his hand. He rubbed his hands to get it going and then stared to stroke Sherlock as it properly heated.

"Mmm, that's quite nice," Sherlock said. "Here, let me have some." He poured a little into his own hands and did what John had done, before going back to stroking John. "Fair enough, I can see why you like it." He kissed John on the mouth again.

John kissed back for a long while before he pulled away. "The normal . . . can be cold," he murmured breathlessly. 

"It's good, I'm glad we got it," Sherlock said, moving back in for another kiss. "What does it . . . taste like?"

John bit his lip, smiling softly and shaking his head. "Like regular lube," he said. "But it's warm in your mouth . . . it feels the best in other areas," he said. 

"In what other areas?" Sherlock asked cheekily, licking around John's ear as he continued moving his hand on him.

John smiled and didn't answer, instead tightening his grip a bit as he stroked Sherlock. 

Sherlock moved his hand down on John, holding his balls first and then covering the area between John's legs. He nipped at John's ear and hummed softly.

"Have I told you I love your hands?" John murmured softly. He swiped over Sherlock's tip again before adding a twist with his movements. 

"No, but I can see why," Sherlock said, smiling. "I think they're quite fond of you as well." His hand moved back to stroking John's cock.

"Well, I love your hands," he murmured. 

Sherlock pushed John back a little so he was flat on the bed. He crawled on top of John and kissed his mouth. Then he lowered himself down John's body, kissing as he moved. When he got to John's cock, he licked it and then made a face. "It's not that bad really," he said, "it kind of tastes like nothing." He placed himself between John's legs and kissed the inside of his thighs.

John pet his hair and lifted to look up at him, biting his lip. "I'll try it next," he murmured. 

Sherlock's mouth moved up John's leg and then flicked across his balls. He sat up and reached for the bottle of lube, dribbling a little more into his hand. He slid his fingers across the line that connected John's leg to his body and then brushed past his hole. "Is this the area where the warmth feels nice?" he asked softly, kissing John's thigh lightly.

John breathed out heavily, nodding against the pillow. "Yes," he murmured, squirming lightly. "The warmth is nice."

Sherlock let his finger hover around John's hole before pressing the tip lightly in. "This okay?" he asked almost in a whisper, as he put more kisses higher up on John's legs, moving to his lower abdomen.

"Yes . . . Sherlock it's good," John moaned softly. He stroked Sherlock's hair, gazing down at him, marveling in how good Sherlock made him feel. Not just physically, but everything felt so good.

Sherlock kept kissing John, moving occasionally to suck at the tip of his cock. He pushed his finger slowly all the way into John and began gently pumping, occasionally twisting and curling to brush past his prostate. Sherlock could feel his own cock aching.

Small noises were leaving from deep in John's throat, pulling his legs back a bit to feel him deeper.

John's noises were making Sherlock even hotter so he pushed a second finger in, moving them a little faster now.

"Yes . . . like that . . . Sherlock," John moaned, writhing lightly in pleasure.

Sherlock slid a third finger in and separated them slightly to stretch John. He raised himself to reach up and kiss John's mouth. "You're so sexy," he said softly. He kept his fingers moving in John and his hips were also rocking with the same rhythm.

"I want you, please," John said, trying to tug him up.

Sherlock reached over and grabbed the box of condoms. He moved his body back and rolled one on, dribbling some more lube into his hand and swiping it over John before giving himself a quick stroke as well. He used his knees to separate John's legs more and lined himself up. He leaned over John, resting on arm and slowly pushing into him. "God, you feel good," he said, leaning down closer to John and kissing him.

"Oh God, you feel so good," John moaned, wrapping his arms around Sherlock. He leaned up to kiss him hard.

Sherlock started softly thrusting, feeling the pressure of John's body around him. "Fuck," he said, kissing John's mouth and then moving to John's neck and ear, covering it with his mouth, not really kissing, just taking John's skin in.

John moaned with each movement, thrusting with him and pulling his legs up to take him deeper. He was so full and he just wanted more and more.

Sherlock kept a steady movement, concentrating on the feeling of sliding within John. He slipped an arm around John's shoulders and pulled himself closer to John, kissing his mouth again.

The warmth felt so good as Sherlock slid in and out of him, stretching and filling him. He brought a hand behind Sherlock's head and kept him close, gazing at him, his small sounds muffled against Sherlock's lips when they kissed.  

This felt so good, Sherlock almost wished it would never end. But at the same time, he could feel the tension building inside him and he knew that release would feel even better. His movements became a little faster, a little harder.

John whimpered, his body rocking with Sherlock. He wrapped his hand around himself, stroking at the same pace. "M'close . . . Sherlock." 

"God," Sherlock moaned and he let his body go, pumping into John. He kissed John hard and gasped into his mouth, "John, I --" and then came hard, pushing himself in slow and long. He mumbled John's name over and over.

John moaned at the sight, watching him lose control like that and loving every second of it. It was enough to push him over the edge and, just a few seconds later, he was coming all over their bellies. He called out for Sherlock, saying his name between his groans of pleasure.

Sherlock held John to him as the waves passed through them both. He did his best to catch his breath, panting against John's neck. "Fuck, John," Sherlock said, "that was incredible."

John nodded against him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock tightly. "You were incredible," he said.

"No," Sherlock said, lifting his head to look in John's eyes. "It wasn't just me." He kissed his mouth softly and then wiggled a little, moving back to take off the condom. Then he lay down at John's side, curling a bit and just petting his chest.

John held him close, stroking his fingers over Sherlock's back lightly. "It's been a while since I've done that. It felt better than ever."

"It's been a very long time since I did that, but I can tell you, I don't remember it feeling that good," Sherlock said. "It's exhausted me a little," he said. He smiled, a little embarrassed.

"We can take a short nap before dinner," he smiled settling more comfortably with Sherlock.

"Hmmm," Sherlock said, snuggling against him. He closed his eyes and listened to their breathing.

John started to pet his hair again, a habit he was getting into that was extremely relaxing. It helped him doze off, his fingers stilling in his hair.


	6. Their Second Night in New York

When Sherlock woke up, he was still pressed against John. He looked at his sleeping face and thought about what they had done. He leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the mouth. "John Watson," he whispered. "I think it's time to wake up."

John blinked his eyes open with a small hum as he woke up. "Dinner?" he murmured a bit confused. 

"I think so, we've expended quite a bit of energy today, we probably need to refuel," Sherlock said. "You feel okay?"

John nodded. "Just waking up -- I'm always a bit groggy after sleeping during the day." He stretched and winced lightly, remembering why they were napping. "I'm okay," he said, smiling up at him. 

"You can take another bath if you need to," Sherlock said, sitting up a bit. "I need tea." He stretched and then stood up, slipping on the dressing gown. He filled the kettle and turned it on. He grabbed the menus and handed them to John. "What do you feel like eating?"

"Pasta," John said, looking through the menu anyways. "I'll take a shower tomorrow morning before I go," he said, the words leaving a heavy feeling in his chest. He had almost forgotten he'd have to go. 

"I have a good idea," Sherlock said, "actually two good ideas. The first is that you should shower tonight. I may need to be putting my mouth on your body at some point tonight and I'd prefer it not to taste of dried lube and come. My second good idea is that we don't spend anymore time talking about your leaving. What do you think of those two ideas?"

John smiled and slid out of bed, squirming a bit as he walked around to Sherlock. "And if I need to put my mouth on you?" he asked, pulling Sherlock with him slowly.  

"I'll shower as well. To be fair, I think I might do before the food even comes -- I feel like I feel the lube on me even though I know it's unlikely I can," he said, giving John a kiss and then stepping back. "Write down what you want to eat and I'll order and then rinse off. Are you planning on staying nude all night? If so, perhaps I should be the one to answer the door when the food comes." He reached around and pinched John's bottom.

John jumped lightly and grinned. "Who knows? If I answer we might get extra bread," he winked, jotting down what he wanted. "I'll take my time in case you need a hand rinsing off," he grinned, slipping into the bathroom. He set the water and climbed in, running his hands over his belly before getting the body wash. 

Sherlock ordered the food and then followed John into the bathroom. "Should I get in as well?" he asked through the curtain. He took off the dressing gown so he was standing naked. "Or should I just watch you in there?"

"Unless you're just going to rinse off in the sink I suggest you come in. The water is pleasantly warm," he smiled, peeking out of the curtain. 

"And you are pleasantly naked," Sherlock said, slipping around the curtain and sliding himself against John's wet body.

"And I just got clean," he teased, sliding his still soapy hands over Sherlock's stomach now. 

"I won't make you dirty," Sherlock said, kissing John softly. "We can't stay in too long -- just long enough for you to wash me so don't get yourself too distracted. 

"Rubbing my hands all over your naked, wet body? What could possibly distract me?" he smiled, kissing Sherlock between his words. His hands were already moving, lathering his stomach, his chest, and then down to his hips. 

"Focus, John Watson, use your medical training, not your saucy steward seduction skills," Sherlock said, letting John cover him in soap. He kissed the top of John's wet head. 

"You're so sexy I don't think I can separate them," John chuckled, moving around his hips to do his back.

"Well, try, because otherwise, we'll miss our food delivery," Sherlock said, putting his arms straight against his sides and closing his eyes. "There, I've turned off all my sex appeal. That should help," he said, peeking open one eye to look at John.

John laughed and pat his cheeks with his soapy hands. "Rinse off before we both starve to death in here," he grinned.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and gave him one more long kiss and then casually got out of the shower, drying off and putting on his pajamas. "I don't want you to go tomorrow," he said, before he slipped out of the bathroom.

John opened his mouth to say reply but when he followed Sherlock out of the tub he was gone. "So much for not talking about it," he grumbled, drying off and putting a robe on. He came out into the room and found him. "Hey . . . we're not talking about it, right?" he asked quietly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the robe. "I don't want to go either."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said. "I know I said we needn't talk about it, but I guess I just felt like saying that." Sherlock was sitting on the bed flipping through the television channels. "Could you check if there's wine? I think I might like a glass of wine with dinner."

"Yeah," John nodded, moving over to the mini bar. "Your brother knows how to pick a hotel," he said, pulling out a bottle of red wine.

As John was pouring the drinks, there was a knock on the door. Sherlock got up and paid for the food. He brought it over to the bed and dished the food up. They sat down on the bed to eat. "Is it okay?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," John smiled as he ate. "It's all very good. You know, I should have bought dinner since you bought our lunch and . . . supplies," he pointed out. 

"I'll put it on your tab," Sherlock said. "Sorry, look, I know I said we don't need to talk about your leaving but before we go to bed, let's make sure I'm on your flight back, yeah?"

"Okay," John said. "I have a laptop with me -- we can book the flight as soon as we're done eating," he assured Sherlock. "I'll log in to the employee page and add you on as a friend, that way it'll be next to nothing," he smiled. 

"Thanks, 'friend,'" Sherlock said. He fiddled with his food and then took a drink of wine. "Are you going to tell Sarah we had sex?" Sherlock asked even though he didn't know why.

John nearly choked on the bite he took and he swallowed it so quickly that it hurt going down. "What? No -- I mean, she's going to know, but I'm not going to talk about it," he said. 

"Okay . . . sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about," Sherlock said. He took another drink. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," John said, feeling a bit bad about his extreme reaction. "I just didn't expect that -- and honestly that's all between us. She's going to guess -- for crying out loud she was pushing for the bathroom in the plane," he said. 

"I don't care, I don't care if anyone knows," Sherlock said. He smiled at John. "I'm glad we met. I want to keep knowing you."

John smiled wider. "I want to keep knowing you, too." He looked down at his plate and mixed his food around a bit, feeling a small, nagging tug in his belly. He was already planning on putting his two weeks in and going back to the clinic even though Sherlock didn't think it was a good idea. He knew that by not telling Sherlock they couldn't see each other anyways, but he was hoping it was going to work out. 

Sherlock finished his meal and carried the leftovers to the table. He moved back to the bed and sat down. "Look, let's stop talking about it. I'm just being a baby -- we'll see each other in a few days and then we'll be home and can see each other there, yeah?" 

"Yeah," John said, taking his plate to the table as well. He drained his glass and poured some more wine. "Do you want more?" he asked Sherlock. 

"I think so," Sherlock said. "Perhaps it'll help me relax a bit."

John filled his glass as well and went back to the bed. "Let's stop thinking about things that aren't happening right this second, okay?" he smiled. 

"All right," Sherlock said. "So what's going to happen now? Let me know so I know what to be thinking about."

"Sometimes I can't tell if you're being serious or making fun of me," John smiled, taking a big sip. 

"I told you I was difficult to be around. Let me just try to keep on your good side for the rest of the evening and then you can come to your senses in California," Sherlock said. "What could I do that would keep you charmed for the night?"

John grinned and took another sip of wine. "You've done so much. Why don't you tell me what you want, now? Anything." 

"Kissing," Sherlock said quickly.

"Kissing?" John smiled. "What an easy man to please," he said. He put his glass down and straddled Sherlock's lap, tilting his head as if considering where to start. He pecked a kiss on his mouth, then the corner of his mouth, and then his cheek. He kissed his cheek bone, his temple, his nose, and then tilted his head up and kissed his chin, dipping down to his neck. 

"Okay," Sherlock said, "I'm satisfied now." He turned his head against the pillow and closed his eyes. "Good night." He made a little snoring sound. 

"I'd better go then," he said, sliding not only off of Sherlock but off of the bed. "You know what they say about too much of a good thing," he added, dramatically tiptoeing away. 

"Won't you sleep by me, please?" Sherlock said, opening one eye. "I forgot to mention that I also wanted that." 

"Well, now you're just getting out of control," he grinned. He climbed back up, making sure to not only do it over Sherlock but to kiss him hard as he passed over him. He flopped down on his own side and now pretended to snore himself. 

Sherlock curled around John. "That's good," Sherlock said. "Anything I could help you with before we go to sleep for real?" he added, resting his hand on the waistband on John's pajamas.

"Not yet," John murmured, opening his eyes again. "But if you keep rubbing there you just might." He felt like a pervert, taking their nice cuddling and turning it into more sex. He hoped Sherlock knew he could say no if he wanted to. 

"No, I don't think I want to keep rubbing there," Sherlock said, sliding his hand into John's pajamas and palming his cock.

John arched lightly and bit his lip. "Now you'll definitely have to help me."

"And what precisely would you like me to do?" Sherlock said, his fingers now curled around John's cock. He pressed his mouth against the back of John's neck.

"Keep touching me like that," John murmured. 

Sherlock kept touching John, stroking him slowly with a firm grip and putting kisses on the back of his neck. His own cock was growing harder, and he shifted slightly to feel the pressure of John against it.

John arched back against him, grinding his arse on Sherlock's cock as Sherlock's hand moved over him. He moaned softly, tossing his arm back to hold his hair.

"I want to do something that you'll think of for the next few days, I want to do something that will make you want to see me again," Sherlock leaned forward and whispered into John's ear. In all honesty, he couldn't believe he had said it -- maybe it was telling too much. But it was what was in his head.

"I do. I do already," he moaned softly, his fingertips scratching through his curls.

"What can I make you do so that you ache to see me again?" Sherlock said huskily, abandoning all control over censoring his thoughts before they reached his mouth.

John moaned and bucked into his hand. "Anything," he said.

"Lie on your back," Sherlock said, sitting up and opening the drawer. He got the lube and a condom packet and set them on the bed. He shifted and lifted John's legs so they were bent, his feet flat on the bed. He pulled John's legs a bit apart and sat in between his feet. "Lift your hands over your head," he said softly. "I want to watch your face."

John lifted his arms and couldn't deny the heat the movement caused. Sherlock's voice on top of that -- deep and quiet -- almost made him come right then. "You're so sexy . . . everything about you," he murmured. His eyes moved over his arms and chest, then up to his face. "You're gorgeous."

Sherlock slid down the bed and lay between John's legs. He leaned over and covered John's cock with soft kisses first before licking and the sucking the tip into his mouth. He then lowered his mouth down to John's balls, sucking gently. Then he dropped lower and licked lightly between John's legs before pressing the tip of his tongue softly inside John. He gripped John's thighs before moving back up to John's cock. He just kept moving his mouth to those three places on John's body. 

"Oh God," John groaned, squirming every time Sherlock dipped lower like that. It was such an intimate thing to do and with that action Sherlock got just what he wanted -- John felt like he'd be lost if he never saw him again. He was overwhelmed with so much feeling; he felt like he'd burst if he didn't express it somehow. "Sherlock," he moaned, trailing off with a sigh. No words seemed big enough. 

Sherlock kept with his pattern until he felt like he couldn't take it anymore. He quickly reached for some lube, even though he had made the whole area quite wet, and poured some into his hand, pushing in a finger and then two. He started pumping them, moving his upper body to John's belly and then chest. He trailed his tongue across before sucking his nipples, nipping them softly.

John moaned, arching into his mouth and not knowing what to focus on first. Sherlock was intoxicating and John was a panting mess in his hands. He brought his own hands down to touch him -- to hold him, press into his skin, simply to feel him even more than he was.

Sherlock moved off John, sliding his fingers from him, and reaching for the condom. He rolled it on and then lay on his back. "Get on top," Sherlock said, "please."

John huffed out a breath and climbed over him, straddling Sherlock's hips with his cock just behind John. He reached back and stroked it a few times before lining him up and sinking down slowly. The angle was fantastic and looking down at Sherlock like this was very arousing. He moved up and down slowly, panting as he gazed down at the man.

"John," Sherlock exhaled as John pushed Sherlock into him. "Fuck," he said, dropping his hands to John's legs which he gripped. "Is this okay? Does it feel good?"

"Yes, Sherlock, yes," he nodded, moving a bit faster up and down. Then he rolled his hips, feeling Sherlock deeper for longer. He bent forward and kissed him hard, dragging his mouth to his neck and sucking the skin until marks appeared.

The movement of John's rolling hips was good, making Sherlock feel he was moving deeper, feeling more connected. He lifted his hands to John's sides as John's mouth moved on him. Sherlock pressed his legs against the bed, helping him rock his own hips to press up into John.

"Fuck," John groaned softly, sitting up again. "Do that again," he murmured, and when Sherlock complied he called out. "Oh God," he moaned, moving down on him harder.

"God," Sherlock called out loudly. "John, wait . . . I need to . . ." he tried to catch his breath for a second, but he was having trouble making words. He stopped John's hips and managed to mumble "Turn" as he tried to lift himself up a little to move John. "Lie down," he said, doing his best to stay inside John as he rolled over. Sherlock wanted to be on top, he wanted to move hard into John, he wanted his whole body as close to John's as possible. 

John shifted as quickly as he could. He lay on his back again as gazed up at him, looping his arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. It was wild and sloppy, but he couldn't get enough of him.

Sherlock rested his body on John's, first holding John's head in his hands and kissing his mouth softly. Then he said, "Put your hands above your head again," he said and he slipped his arms underneath John's body, holding him tight. He watched John's face and he moved his hips slowly at first, pushing himself full into John, before starting to move a bit faster and harder.

John gripped the pillow above his head hard, rocking gently with Sherlock movements. It was so intense, so good.

Sherlock's body now seemed to making its own decisions: his hips were pushing, pumping into John, hard and fast. He leaned down and bit John's neck, sucking the skin. He mumbled John's name, still squeezing his arms around him. He could feel his whole body go tense and hot. "Put your arms around me, I need . . . to be closer as I come," he panted.

John immediately wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and pulled himself up a bit, pressing his upper body flush to Sherlock's. He grunted softly with every push into his body, bucking to get friction on his cock with Sherlock's belly.

Sherlock's hips now crashed into John. "Fuck," he called out as he came hard into him, squeezing his arms so tight around John. "God," he said lifting his head to look at John's face. He leaned down to kiss him and then slid his hand down to stroke John. "You come, too," he said, panting against John's cheek.

"God . . .oh God, Sherlock," John squeezed his eyes shut as he came, arching high off of the bed and moaning his name over and over again. Everything went white for a split second before he started to come down. When it was over he felt exhausted, panting heavily and slumping against the bed.

Sherlock just kept repeating John's name throughout his orgasm and when John sunk back onto the bed, Sherlock squeezed his arms around him again. "Good" was really the only other word he could make. He panted against him until he had the sense to slide out and take off the condom. Then he slumped back down against John, pressing his lips against John's neck, breathing into his skin.

John brought both hands to his hair and pet him, not knowing what else to do and wanting to just touch him all the time. He really was like a drug-he didn't know what he'd do without Sherlock.

"You okay?" Sherlock asked softly. "I'm sorry -- I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Not at all," he murmured. "About 'hurting me' I mean. I'm fantastic," he smiled. "You?" 

"Yes, I'm good, that was just . . . I can't figure out the right thing to say," Sherlock said quietly.

"I know . . . but that's fine. It was perfect."

"John," Sherlock said and he curled himself around John's body. He tried to remember if this is what he normally felt like after sex, but he didn't think it was. He felt needy -- he couldn't remember ever feeling that as an adult. It made him feel a little bit embarrassed really, it was just so unlike him. But once the word 'needy' had popped into his head, he realised it was the precise word for the feeling. 

"You're making me want to call off work now, Sherlock," he said quietly. "I don't know how to . . . be without you," he mumbled embarrassed. 

"We're being silly, it's just a few days," Sherlock said, to himself as much to John. "We'll be okay."

"I know," he murmured, entirely unconvinced.

"Look, here, let's do this: until we're back in London, we can be as obnoxious as possible. You can send me a million texts, I can pout in my room. We won't judge each other -- if anything starts to seem too obnoxious, we'll remember this moment and file the obnoxious behaviour away to be addressed later if it continues in London. But until we're back home, we do whatever we feel like doing to get through the time apart. What do you think?" Sherlock was still pressed into John, brushing his fingers against John's chest.

"Okay. I suppose I can live with that," John agreed. "That's a good plan."

"Should I kick things off, then?" Sherlock asked, hoping this would be okay. "Will you fuss my hair and baby me for a few minutes?"

John smiled and rubbed his head hard for a second, chuckling before slowing down and properly petting his fingers through. "Who's my handsome man?" he asked softly, still grinning.

Sherlock curled up a little more. Quietly he said, "I've never been in love with anyone before. I just thought you should know."

John flushed pleasantly and, to his horror, his vision blurred. "Now you're just making it hard on purpose," he mumbled teasingly, trying to chuckle softly. It came out breathless and odd.

"I don't mean to," Sherlock said, "I'm sorry."

John buried his mouth in Sherlock's hair, pressing a long, hard kiss there. "I'm falling in love with you," he mumbled.

"I don't know what to do, John," Sherlock whispered.

John wrapped his arms around him tighter, not knowing what to say back. He knew what he wanted to do but his responsibilities nagged at him. It was a terrible feeling. "Come with me to California."

"I can't now, John," Sherlock said. "You've got to go for work and I've not seen my relative because we're been shagging the whole time. We'll be okay."

John sighed softly and nodded. Weird ideas were running through his head about changing to a later flight and waiting for him or quitting on the spot -- but he knew he couldn't do any of those.

"John Watson, this has happened now. This is something," Sherlock said. "It's only a few days. To be honest, I can't speak for you, but I probably will end up . . . unnaturally weakened if I keep up this pace of orgasm. We'll just be recuperating, that's all," Sherlock said, smiling.

John chuckled softly. "I know you're right, Sherlock. That doesn't mean I have to like it," he mumbled.

"I don't like it either," Sherlock said. "Let's kiss." He leaned in to kiss John.

John gladly kissed him back, keeping it soft and sensual.

"This feels like something we've always done," Sherlock whispered. "Strange that it's only been a couple days."

John nodded. "It's a bit scary how attached I feel to you," he admitted.

"Let's not say scary. Let's say unusual," Sherlock suggested.

"Even though I'm a little bit scared?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes, even though I am a bit, too," Sherlock admitted.

"Okay," John agreed. "I'm just . . . I want to change everything and-and I just have never felt this before."

"Everything will change, John," Sherlock said. "It already has."

"I was serious at the diner, Sherlock, and I have already made up my mind and I'm sorry if that's too much but I am doing it."

"John, just shush. Don't do anything until London. That's not what I meant by we can be obnoxious. You'll be right, you can tease me for the rest of our lives about being right. But wait, please," Sherlock said, looking into John's eyes.

"I don't want to be flying off around the world when I could be seeing you in London, Sherlock."

"Well, I'm not in London now. You're only going to California, we'll be in the same country. Then when we get home, then we'll decide," Sherlock said. "Please. It's too much pressure right now -- I worry I'll talk myself into a panic on my own for a couple days, worried I'm ruining your life. Please, John. Just wait."

John regretted bringing it up now. "Okay," he agreed, even though he knew what he wanted to do. "Please don't be upset. I'm sorry."

"I'm not upset, I'm happier than I've ever been, you make me feel happy, John," Sherlock said. He reached over and kissed him again. "I'm not a happy person normally."

John smiled. "I'm glad I am able to make you feel that," he said. "I am happy, too."

"Let's stay happy," Sherlock said. "Even if we're apart. Do you think we can?"

"Yes," John nodded. "I'll just keep thinking about you," he smiled. 

"Don't worry, I'll be reminding you of my presence while you're away," Sherlock said. He kissed John's arm and gave it a little bite. "You'll be sick of my reminding you after the first hundred texts," he added, kissing and nipping him again.

"Will not. They will be a nice surprise when I get off the plane," he smiled. 

"Or embarrassing if you're busy at someone else's hotel," Sherlock said, kind of regretting having said it but his insecurity made him do it.

"Yeah, I'm sure the telly is going to be really jealous," John said. He kissed Sherlock's head again, resting against it. 

"Let's change the subject," Sherlock said. "Do you just prefer what we've been doing or do you like doing other things?"

"I would like to do other things with you -- maybe try new things like topping, if you would like that as well. And that lovely thing you did with your mouth," he smiled. 

"I think maybe we could try that," Sherlock said. "I have to be honest -- I've only done it this way. But we could try."

"I've only ever bottomed. I've only been with two others."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Sherlock said, pinching John a little.

"I promise I won't hurt you," he smiled and squirmed lightly.

"I believe you," Sherlock said. "I know you won't."

"Okay good," he smiled, resuming petting his hair with both hands now.

Sherlock shifted slightly so he was lying on his side a little away from John. He lifted his hands to John's face, cradling it, and leaned in to kiss him softly.

John kissed back with a small hum, turning on his side to press into the kiss easier. He brought his own hand to Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock slid one hand around John's shoulder and the other down to John's hip. He pressed himself against John, still kissing, letting his tongue move in to find John's. His eyes closed and he felt lost in the kiss.

John slid his hand behind Sherlock's neck, fingering at the hair at the base of his neck. The arm he was laying on stretched out to touch his chest, fingers curling and uncurling against him. 

"I like when you touch my hair," Sherlock said softly. "I don't know why, I like all your touches really." His fingers brushed the skin of John's hip.

"It's very relaxing. I'm afraid I've made a real habit out of it," he smiled lightly as they kissed. 

"I like it," Sherlock said. "I don't get touched very often, but I like when you do it." He tangled their legs, trying to be touched more.

John smiled. "I will touch you whenever you want," John said, sliding his hand down Sherlock's back, hips, and arse. 

"In all honesty, there's not a place I don't want to be touched by you," Sherlock said softly.

"I'll make sure every inch is covered," he smirked. 

"That sounds lovely," Sherlock said. Then more quietly he asked, "Have you left a mark on me? On my neck?"

"Two," John admitted, fingering them lightly.

"Have I left any marks on you?"

"Have you?" John asked, tilting his head a bit. He hadn't been to the bathroom since this last time and thinking back on it was all a bit frenzied.

"Let's see," he looked at John's arm where he had bitten him earlier, but it had been soft and there wasn't a mark. He thought he remembered biting a bit on his neck but there was no mark there either. "No, I don't see anything."

"Hmm," John nodded, settling to face him again. "Do you mind the marks?" He asked softly.

"No," Sherlock said. "Do you want me to leave one?"

John nodded. "Somewhere only I can see," he murmured. "So I can have you with me."

Sherlock lifted himself and moved down John's body. He leaned over and kissed John's inner thigh softly, before starting to suck. He nipped it a little, moving his hand to grip John's calf. He kept kissing and sucking and then bit a little harder before sitting up. The skin was red and he said, "There, maybe that will do the trick." He rested his head on John's leg.

John moaned softly at each nip, propping himself up a bit to watch him lay there. "Maybe one more, so we're even?"

"On your leg?" Sherlock asked.

"Maybe here," John said quietly, tapping his collar bone.

Sherlock lifted himself so he was now lying over top of John. He kept most of his body in the air but leaned down and traced the line of John's collarbone with his tongue. Then he started to suck and nip until he had left his mark. He felt both his and John's pulses increase.

John hummed softly and pet his hair as he worked. "Would you like me to touch every inch now?" he murmured.

"Yes, please," Sherlock said, moving his face to John's and sucking in his bottom lip.

John turned them both and settled on top of him, starting with his mouth. After a long, slow kiss he kissed down Sherlock's neck, over the marks and down to his collar bone. "Do you mind more marks?" he murmured.

"No, I won't be having to serve any high flyers in the next few days. I'll just look at them on my own and remember," Sherlock said, settling back onto the softness of the bed.

"Good," he murmured, sucking at his collarbone until a mark was left. "Because I want to leave one everywhere I go," he finished, sucking and nipping at his chest now. 

Sherlock made a soft, satisfied moan as John moved down his body. He felt like he was memorising the feel of John's mouth on his skin. It was so lovely and he wished they could do this all the time.

John moved lower and started on a spot over his ribs. Satisfied, he moved to Sherlock's stomach, just a bit above his navel.

"Ouch," Sherlock said. He lifted his head. "Actually, it tickles more than hurt really." He smiled and lay back down on the pillow. 

"Sorry," John murmured, leaving the half formed mark for his hip instead. His hands moved to places his mouth wasn't touching, rubbing his skin lightly.

Sherlock slid his hand down to lightly touch John's hair as he was kissing him. He made a soft sigh.

John smiled at the touch and moved inwards to the soft skin of his groin, rubbing his thigh lightly. 

"That feels good. My legs are a bit sore from walking . . . and the other stuff we've been doing," Sherlock said, smiling again.

John rubbed a bit harder, massaging his thighs as he kissed a bit lower towards his inner thigh. Then he moved to the other side and started at his hip again, still kneading gently.

"Mmmm, I'll have to get more fit if we're going to keep this up," Sherlock said. "I've been using muscles I haven't used in years." Then he laughed at himself. "Including that one, if you're thinking of rubbing there as well."

"Its turn is coming," John breathed, nipping at his inner thigh again.

"Sorry, I'm getting impatient," Sherlock said. He wiggled his legs a little.

John chuckled softly and wrapped his fingers around Sherlock, stroking slowly as he sat up to admire his work. "You're lovely," he smiled, looking at all of the marks. "All mine."

"All right," Sherlock said. "I am." He looked up at John and smiled softly. "You make me feel good . . . in a lot of different ways. That's making me feel good," he said nodding at John's hand.

John smiled and paused long enough to get the warming lube, dribbling a bit on Sherlock's cock as he continued stroking lightly. "I'm glad," he smiled. "How's this?"

"I forgot about that. Yes, that's good," Sherlock said. "Your hands are good, you know what to do to me." He reached to touch John's hair again.

John leaned down so Sherlock could reach, and then he simply lay between his legs, resting his head on the man's thigh. After gripping a bit tighter and speeding up his stroking, he dipped down and sucked one of Sherlock's balls into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks gently.

"God, John, yes, that's . . ." Sherlock moaned softly. His mouth was so wet on Sherlock's skin, like he really was going to touch every part of Sherlock. He felt John's tongue against him and moaned again.

John popped off softly and moved to the other one, giving it the same treatment. His hand moved a bit faster and he breathed hotly on them, alternating between the two.

There were so many sensations, even just the feel of John's head against his thigh was driving Sherlock insane. He tried to think of his breathing, keeping it steady, and just relaxing into everything else that was going on and what it was making him feel.

"I'm going to try what you tried," John murmured against his skin, dipping lower and flicking his tongue over Sherlock's entrance.

It was quite sweet how John was announcing he was going to try something new. It felt nice, warm and wet. "It feels good, you okay with it?" he said softly.

"Mhmm," John assured him, licking at it harder. He'd never done this before to anyone. He made it wet before pushing the tip of his tongue through as he licked.

"It's nice, soft," Sherlock said under his breath. "It's so good, thank you."

He continued that for a few minutes, his hand always stroking Sherlock steadily. When he came up again he kissed Sherlock's thigh lightly before moving his hand low to the base and sucking his cock into his mouth, bobbing slow and steady.

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked down at John. The sight was gorgeous. He imagined them in his flat, John doing this there. He smiled and closed his eyes again.

John moved his hand away and took him deeper, humming around him as he picked up speed a bit. 

Sherlock let his hips move just a little, just because it felt so good inside John's mouth. But he let John control everything. 

John swallowed around him, shifting up a bit for better leverage. He moved his head up and down easier now, a bit faster and smoother.

"John, you're going to make me come like that," Sherlock huffed out.

John hummed in response and didn't let up, bringing a hand to his thigh again and rubbing lightly.

Sherlock gripped the sheets with his fists and focused all his attention on John's mouth. He felt his balls tighten and a heat in his stomach and pushed his hips up a bit as his cock jerked in John's mouth. "Fuck, John," he called as he came.

John pulled back enough to not choke, wanting Sherlock to move as much as he needed to. He swallowed around him, slowly pulling off when he was done and laying on his thigh again as he caught his breath, petting him lightly.

Sherlock fell back onto the bed, panting softly. "John Watson," he said, reaching down and touching his hair.

John smiled and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing him in and listening to his steadying breaths.

"Come up here and let me kiss you," Sherlock said. He pulled John towards him.

John smiled and made his way up, pressing his lips to Sherlock's with a content sigh.

Sherlock kissed John back and then moved his mouth to kiss his cheek. "Did you like that?" he said.

"I liked how good it made you feel -- how much you liked it," he murmured.

"And how did your little friend like it?" Sherlock said, glancing down. "Is he sleepy or would he like to get in on the action?"

John chuckled softly. "I think you could get his attention," he said. Sherlock's sounds had made him half hard already.

"What kind of thing is he interested in?" Sherlock was kissing John's neck again moving down his shoulder and across his chest to suck his nipple. 

"He likes that," John murmured with a sigh. "He really loves your mouth. And your hands." 

Sherlock swirled John's nipple with his tongue, pulling it and holding it gently between his teeth. He slid his hand down to John's cock, holding it tightly for a moment as he continued to work on John's chest. Then he started moving his hand before lowering himself, trailing his tongue down John's belly.

Heat exploded through him and he arched against Sherlock's mouth. "That's very good," he murmured. He laced his fingers into Sherlock's hair, holding tightly.

Sherlock licked softly at the tip of John's cock and he slid his hand over it. Then he reached for the lube to make his movement more slick. He moved down and licked across his balls as his hand continued to glide over the length of John's cock. 

Heat pooled in his belly as he pushed his hips up, desperate for Sherlock's touch. It was so good. He moaned loudly, gripping the bed sheet.

Sherlock lifted John's cock and tipped it into his mouth, sucking it sofly. He moved his other hand to between John's legs, rubbing his inner thighs and then tugging gently on his balls. He swiped his fingertips across John's hole, which he felt tighten instinctively. He sucked John's cock in a little more deeply and moved his fingertips across him again, this time letting them hover for a moment.

John relaxed the second time, expecting it now and humming softly at the touch. Once again there was so much to focus on, so much of Sherlock to enjoy.

Sherlock pressed a finger in. "This okay? Tell me if you're too tender," he said as he moved very slowly, pecking kisses on John's cock now. 

John tightened around him for a moment before relaxing again. "I'm okay . . . feels good," he assured Sherlock, breathing heavily.

"Do you want to come like this?" Sherlock asked, moving both hands steadily now and just moving his mouth over John's skin.

"It feels so good, I'm-I'm close," John panted, allowing his hips to buck a bit easier now that Sherlock's mouth wasn't there.

Sherlock sped both hands up a little, mimicking the movement of John's hips. "Let go, John, I want to memorise your coming and think of it while you're away," Sherlock said softly.

Those words always had such a strong effect on him. He let himself push fully into Sherlock's touch, whimpering as the heat exploded over. He came into Sherlock's hand, feeling himself tighten around his finger as his hands clutched the bed desperately. He was sure he was moaning but as he started to come down he found he didn't know what. 

Sherlock softly but quickly moved to lie down next to John. He slid his arms around him, holding him as he recovered. "That was beautiful, John," he said. "You're so good."

John panted softly against his chest and found an odd pleasure at being able to put on a show for Sherlock -- to please him despite being a writhing mess. "You make me that way . . . it's all for you." 

"And you, though, right? You like what we do, you want to, right?" Sherlock said, pressing against him.

John nodded against him, curling in close as if nothing was enough. "God, Sherlock. I feel like I'm addicted to you," he mumbled. 

"I don't know what to say to that," Sherlock said honestly. "I hope it's all right you feel like that. I know you didn't know me three days ago, but you have no idea how different you are to anyone I've ever met and how differently you make me feel. I want to always be around you and, when I can't be, I want to know I soon will be."

John nodded. "Me too. That's how I feel, too. I do like it, but like I said before it scares me a little bit. I'm afraid I'm going to get on that plane and this'll all have been a dream or something."

"Well, then just think about how lovely it will be when we see each other on the flight home and we'll both know it's all been true," Sherlock said, knowing he felt a similar fear.

"I know. I'm sorry," he sighed. "I won't bring it up again."

"It's okay," Sherlock said, "this is all very . . . unusual." He smiled softly against John's hair. "But you are leaving tomorrow and we can't pretend you're not. It's only for a couple days but I will wish you were still here with me."

"Shh. I don't want to talk about that before I fall asleep. Tell me what you do in London," he said. 

"I ride in taxis, I look at things, and when the police can't figure something out, I figure it out for them," Sherlock said. 

"So you solve crimes for the police?"

"Sometimes. I have other clients as well. I am not very good at not having things to do," Sherlock said. "I get easily bored and I'm quite unpleasant when I'm bored."

John smiled. "I'll make sure you're never bored," he said. 

Sherlock smiled back. "What do you do when you're at home in London?"

"Well, when I worked at the clinic I liked reading. And watching crap telly," he said. "And going to the pub with friends. But when I took up this job I most just watch telly now, relax and enjoy home before I have to leave it again."

"Do you go on . . . dates?"

"I have, yes," John nodded. 

"But you don't have a boyfriend?"

John shook his head. "I didn't come out until a year ago," he admitted. "I dated when I first came out, went to clubs and stuff, but I never really liked anyone enough to keep it up." 

"But you had sex with some?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "I've had sex with two other men," he said. "The first was the first man I ever dated -- we'd been together for two months. The second man -- well, that's all we did, really. But I didn't like that."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have been so nosy," Sherlock said. He rested back flat on the bed, one arm still under John.

"It's okay. I don't mind you asking. Um, can I ask about you?" John asked, shifting so he wasn't crushing Sherlock's arm and wishing he'd continued to hold him like before. He tugged the covers up instead. 

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling. "I wasn't lying about not being very social, John. I've not really been with anyone since university. Just a few times . . . when I was in a bad way, I guess. I went through a short time of being a bit . . . lost and sex was sometimes useful, I guess. But other than those, I've always been on my own." He turned back on his side and pushed his face against John's shoulder.

John hugged him tightly, turning his own face to press into Sherlock's. "It's okay, now. We're both going to be okay, now. Those other people don't matter anymore. Only us." 

Sherlock squeezed John to him. He put a kiss on John's shoulder. They lay there quietly for a few minutes. "I suppose we need to set the alarm for tomorrow," Sherlock finally said.

"That's a good idea. We can have breakfast. My flight isn't until three," John said. 

"Maybe we could do sex in the shower?" Sherlock said.

John grinned. "Yeah, I think we could," he nodded. 

"Good," Sherlock said. He snuggled against John. "Are we going to sleep now?"

"We probably should," John said quietly. There was a terrible weight in his chest that he tried to ignore and he settled more comfortably. Just two days and Sherlock would be on his flight again. He could handle that.

Sherlock tried to relax a bit. He took a few deep breaths. "I'm glad . . . for all this," he said softly.

John kissed -- well, he wasn't sure exactly what with the way they were curled together -- but he smiled and kissed again. "I am too, love."

Sherlock closed his eyes and felt himself starting to fall asleep. His hand curled softly around John.

John dozed off not to long after, snoring softly and having odd dreams of Sherlock being able to fly and taking him to London instead of the plane.

Sherlock was imagining John with him in London. Then he dreamt about that and it was lovely.


	7. Their Last Day In New York

When the alarm went off John scrambled to turn it off, remembering it was on Sherlock's side and crawling over him to smack the snooze. He fell back again and closed his eyes, trying to take advantage of the few minutes he'd given them.

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned to John. "I need tea. But I also want to say we mustn't be silly. If we're going to be together in London, we won't be together every moment of our lives. It's not horrible that we have to spend a couple days apart. I wish we didn't have to but I worry that us worrying about it is a sign that this really is temporary. I don't want it to be. What's a couple days if we're going to be together once we get home, right? Let's not fret. I need tea." He leaned over and gave John a kiss before getting up to turn on the kettle and then coming back to the bed.

John covered his face and tried to process Sherlock's words. He groaned softly and turned to kiss his cheek. "Not stressing," he promised, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He rubbed his face again and got up to use the bathroom, brushing his teeth and splashing some cold water on his face to wake up. He came back out and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Sherlock handed John a cup of tea. "Good morning, handsome face," he said. "It's just a morning. We'll have lots of mornings like this when one of us won't be around all day in bed. This is just the first one." He smiled and then went to use the bathroom and brush his teeth. When he returned he said, "Let's have a good morning kiss now, please."

John took a sip of his tea before smiling and leaning forward to kiss Sherlock. He touched his cheek lightly before pulling back. "Good morning, handsome face," he grinned, stealing Sherlock's line.

"Did you sleep well?" Sherlock asked. He took a sip of tea and stood up and stretched a bit.

"Very well, yes. I had a dream that you could fly," he smiled.

"I could fly a plane or fly- fly?" Sherlock said. "Not that it makes a difference, I guess, as in reality, I can't do either. Perhaps I'll spend the time you're away learning." He smiled and crawled back into the bed. "Come get by me for a minute, will you?"

"You could fly-fly," John said, crawling over to him. "I don't think you can learn that."

"You're probably right, but I'll give it a go," Sherlock said, sliding up against John and grabbing his hips. "Did I look sexy flying about?" he said, pressing his mouth against John's neck.

"You always look sexy," John smiled. "I was riding you." He wrapped an arm around Sherlock and sighed. "Shouldn't we be in the shower?"

"I thought we could start here. Don't worry, we'll get to the shower. But let's think for a moment, how's this going to work -- standing up or what? Let's be logical about this," he said, still kissing John and stroking his back.

"Standing might work, leg up on the side," John smiled, turning his head to kiss Sherlock's neck. "Or kneeling on the floor, though that could get painful."

"Standing it is," Sherlock said, now licking down to John's chest. "Am I going to do it to you or you to me?"

John hadn't thought about that. "I could do it to you, if you like," he murmured. "I want to, of course, I just didn't think it'd be in the shower." He slid down a bit to kiss his mouth, petting his hair. "I want you to feel the warming lube," he smiled.

"Well, we could always have a shower afterwards," Sherlock said, now kissing his nipples. "This bed is very comfortable, more comfortable than the one you'll have in California, I bet. Perhaps we should make the most of it?" He slid his hand down to John's arse and squeezed it. 

"You've convinced me," John grinned, flipping them so he was straddling Sherlock's hips. He splayed his fingers on Sherlock's chest, his thumbs flicking at his nipples.

Sherlock reached down and wrapped his fingers around John's cock. "You're so gorgeous," he said as he started to move his hand.

"Don't talk to yourself when I'm right here," John teased, leaning down to kiss him.

"Shut up, handsome," Sherlock said. He kissed John hard as he moved his hips a bit. He lifted his hands to John's hips and started to rock them against him.

John chuckled and after a moment of enjoying the movement, scooted downwards, settling between Sherlock's legs and stroking his thighs again.

"Is my mark still on your leg?" Sherlock said. He relaxed his body as John moved. Everything he did felt good; even the way he shifted down Sherlock's body sent a little electricity through him.

"It is," John smiled. He pushed Sherlock's legs up a bit, bringing the lube close. He pressed kisses into the back of his thigh and arse, dripping a bit of lube on his entrance and rubbing lightly to warm it.

"That feels nice," Sherlock said, concentrating on taking deep breaths. "I'm a little nervous, John," he admitted, "but I haven't changed my mind. I want to do it." 

"I'll do as much as you want me to, love," he murmured against his skin, pressing his kisses a bit harder.

"I know, I just thought saying it might help," Sherlock said. He lifted his head and looked down. "I don't want you to stop, I mean, I'll say if I do, but I want to try it. With you." He smiled and laid back down.

"Okay," John smiled. He added a bit more pressure with his finger and gently pushed it in. He added a bit more lube and started pumping slowly. "How's this feel?" he asked between kisses.

"Unusual," Sherlock said. He thought about it for a minute. "But nice," he added. "I can see the appeal. Don't stop doing it. Do you like doing it?" He relaxed his body as much as he could.

John nodded against his leg. "I like doing everything with you," he said. He dripped more lube and added a second finger slowly. "How's the warmth?" 

"It feels nice," Sherlock said, literally warming to the whole thing. "I like it, it's different." It did feel good, it was intimate and he was glad it was John who was doing it. He let his hips rock a bit with John's slow movement.

At Sherlock's movement he picked up the speed a bit, angling to touch his prostate.

Sherlock let out a small gasp. "Yes, that's good, John . . . more," he moaned softly.

John sucked at the skin behind his thigh and pushed into his prostate again, stretching him open. This was much better than trying in the shower.

Sherlock knew what was happening -- he just was usually in John's position. He kept his breathing steady and did his best to relax himself. "I want you to try it, John," he said, "I want to feel you."

"Give me one second, love," he murmured, sitting up and still pumping his hand. He reached for a condom, quickly rolling it on and pouring a bit more lube on his cock. He pulled his fingers out slowly, leaned over him, kissing him hard and gently pushed in.  

"Wait, stop," Sherlock said, "just stay there." He put his arms around John's back and pressed his face against John's shoulder. "It hurts a little more than I thought it might," he said softly. He took a few deep breaths and relaxed his muscles. He looked up at John and kissed him. "Okay, just go slowly."

John froze as soon as Sherlock said, just the head of his cock pushed through. He waited patiently and when Sherlock told him to go, he moved in very slowly.

"It's definitely an . . . unusual feeling," he said, trying to smile a little at John. "It feels full, though, I like that feeling, I like that it's you." He gave John a little kiss. "Do you want to try moving a little, not too hard. Not for the first time."

John nodded and, only half way down, he pulled back slowly to the head and then pushed forward again. "You feel very good, Sherlock. You're so gorgeous . . . so warm around me," John encouraged, keeping his movement very slow.

"You feel good inside me," Sherlock said softly, looking up at John's face. "Your face is so pretty." His body was used to the feeling now so he started moving his hips a bit.

"I'm going to push in all the way," he murmured, kissing Sherlock softly as he slowly sank in completely before pulling out again, setting a slow pace with this new depth. "You feel so good," he breathed against Sherlock's cheek, kissing and nuzzling against him.

"God," Sherlock moaned softly, "yes, it feels good. The movement, knowing it's you. You're the only one who ever has, John. Thank you."

"I love you so much," he murmured, his rhythm picking up some speed. He dipped to kiss his neck and jaw, murmuring in his ear about how lovely he was and how good he felt. 

Sherlock didn't know what to say. No one had ever said that to Sherlock, he'd never said it to anyone. And it was confusing to hear it now during this, his first time. He didn't know what to say so he just said "John" softly and went back to concentrating on the feelings in his body.

John pushed into him steadily now, kissing him and moaning and grunting softly against his mouth.

Sherlock reached his hand down between their bodies to hold his own cock. He tried to stroke it to match the movement of their bodies. It all felt good, the closeness, all the touching, the warmth, the connection. "John," he said softly, "don't stop."  
  
John shook his head, keeping his hips steady but careful not to pound into him. "It's good," he said. "You're so . . .good." He shifted and tried to get his prostate again.

Sherlock squeezed shut his eyes and tried to imagine what they looked like, what it looked like, someone doing this to him. He kept his movements steady. He kissed John's mouth and said his name over and over.

"I want you to come for me. I want to feel . . .you tighten around me," John panted, bringing his own hand to Sherlock's cock and stroking, swiping over the tip.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Keep going," he said, letting himself go, letting his body respond to every place that John was touching. "I'm close."

John smiled and leaned down to kiss him as well, his mouth moving slow and soft compared to everything else. He felt happy that Sherlock had chosen him to try this and hoped it was really good for him.

"John," Sherlock called and he spilled out over John's hands and both their bellies. "God, John, god . . ."

It happened so suddenly that John actually paused for a moment, moaning as Sherlock squeezed around him, watching his face as he fell over into his orgasm. Then he was so close himself and he started thrusting his hips again, pushing into Sherlock and coming hard. His hand moved over Sherlock's cock even as he came himself, slowing into stillness as he dropped onto him for a moment to catch his breath.  

"Jesus, John," Sherlock said. "Jesus. I don't know what else to say. I wish you weren't leaving . . . though, I might need a couple days to recover." He smiled lightly and kissed John's face.

"And we still have to shower," he said, gently pulling out. He tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash before laying down beside him. "And pack," he remembered suddenly. Not that packing was going to take long, but still. He turned and kissed Sherlock's shoulder, gazing up at him. "Are you all right? That was . . .fantastic."

"I'm good, it was good, thank you, John," Sherlock said again. He squeezed him again. Then he shifted slightly. "Let's get in the shower then and get the day started."

John nodded. He sat up and helped Sherlock, not even bothering with robes and just heading straight for the bathroom. "Do you want a bath first or will a shower be okay?"

"A shower for now, I'll have a bath tonight. I'll lie in it thinking of you and remembering," he said, kissing John. They stepped into the shower and the water felt nice.

John smiled, ducking his head under the water to get his hair wet so he could wash it. 

"Let me wash your hair this time," Sherlock said. He reached for the shampoo and began massaging it into John's hair, leaning in to kiss him as he did. Then he let his hands move down John's side and he ran them across his belly before sliding them around his back and pulling him close for a proper kiss. Then he stepped back and said, "We mustn't start anything else in here. We have to get on with the day." He rinsed his own hair and then stepped out to dry off.

"Wha--you started it," John grumbled under the water, properly rinsing off before getting out himself. After he dried off he moved around the room picking up his things, tossing them haphazardly into his suitcase while pulling out a fresh uniform. He tried not to think about any of it, letting his body work in autopilot so he wouldn't get overwhelmed. Just a couple days and Sherlock would be on his flight again.

"I know," Sherlock said. "I'm going to close my eyes while you pack up because it's making me feel sad." He sat on the bed with a new cup of tea and closed his eyes, opening one every once in a while. "Hmmm . . . the polyester is making me horny again." He smiled with his eyes closed.

"No time now," John smiled sadly, putting his suitcase by the door and then sitting down to put his shoes on. As it drew closer he had to put more and more effort into not thinking about it.

"I'm teasing," Sherlock said opening his eyes and getting dressed himself. "Do we still have time to get some food? Do you want me to come to the airport with you?"

"If you have time," John nodded. "We can get food there." He knew saying goodbye was going to be hard either way so if he could stretch it out a bit it might be easier -- he hoped, anyways.

"All right, let's get lunch at that diner right on the corner and then we'll take a taxi to the airport," Sherlock said, putting on his coat and grabbing the key card.

"Okay," John agreed, taking the vest off so he looked more like a civilian. He out his coat on grabbed his bag and followed Sherlock out of the room. "It'll be my treat, okay?"

"Deal," Sherlock said, leading them to the diner. He flicked through the menu and then looked over at John. "I'm going to get a bacon sandwich with some tea. Your face is pretty."

John nodded and then did a double take, flushing lightly. "Shh, stop that," he murmured, swatting his arm lightly.

"All right, I won't say it anymore," Sherlock said. The waitress came and they ordered. When she left, Sherlock got out his phone. 

_Your face is pretty. SH_

He hit Send and waited for John's phone to buzz.

"Who -- ?" He opened the message and threw a failed attempt of a glare at Sherlock. "Very clever, Sherlock!"

"I am, aren't I?" He smiled as the waitress set down his tea and he lifted it to his lips to take a sip. When she walked off, he asked, "So will the airline have a hotel set up for you in California?"

John nodded. "They always do, something very close to the airport."

"Will you share or be on your own?" Sherlock asked.

"My own room, but all of the staff are at the same hotel."

"So we'll be able to speak on the phone tonight?" Sherlock said, smiling.

John met his gaze and nodded slowly. "Yes, we will," he smiled.

"Good, what time will you get in? Don't forget they're three hours earlier. I don't care -- call me at any hour, but can you give me an estimate of what to expect you?"

"My flight lands at six their time, and if the hotel is close than it'll just be maybe an hour afterwards," John said, trying to think it through.

"So how about I expect to hear from you sometime before midnight? That way, if anything comes up, if you want to go out for a drink or there's a delay, I shan't worry," Sherlock said. "Deal?"

"That sounds good," John smiled. "You won't be sleeping on me, will you?"

"Hard to say, but don't worry, I'll wake up," Sherlock said. The waitress set down their food and he took a few bites. "Will you get a chance to see any of California?"

John shrugged. "If Sarah drags me out somewhere but if she's found someone then nope," he smiled.

"Your food okay?" Sherlock asked.

"It's good," John smiled. "Did you find out your brother's ulterior motives yet?"

"Yes, it turns out it's not a relative at all. My brother wants me to pick up some document. All this trouble for one document," Sherlock said. "Though it's been good for me, hasn't it?" He stretched his leg under the table to press against John's.

"It's been very good for me . . . I'm going to send your brother a thank you card," John teased.

"He will hate this," Sherlock said but didn't say more. John could learn about Mycroft at the right time and this was not the right time. He pushed his plate to the side. "I don't want to say this, but we should probably get going soon. You never know about traffic and as much as I'd like you to miss your flight, we're supposed to be acting like grown ups, remember?" 

"I remember," John nodded, putting money down on the table for the two of them.

"We can handle this," Sherlock said, smiling as he stood. "Thanks for lunch." They headed out and hailed a cab. Once in the back, Sherlock put his hand on John's leg. "Under here is something that will help you remember me," he said pressing very softly on the area where he had left his mark. "But just in case that goes away, I want to give you something so you don't forget . . . that this is all real."  
  
John looked over at him a bit suspiciously and bit his lip. "And what is that, exactly?" He smiled and tried to sound casual and amused by it even though his heart sped up excitedly.

Sherlock handed John a key. "It's the key to my flat. Now you know I'll see you again because I can't get in without it," Sherlock said, which wasn't precisely true but he was trying to make a point so he hoped a little exaggeration would be all right. "I'll get it back from you on the plane, yeah? But you'll have it so you'll know this was real and that we will see each other again."

John stared down at the key in shook. "I . . . Sherlock," he said quietly, looking up again. "I don't know what to say."

"Just say 'I'll use this to open your flat door for you in two days,'" Sherlock said. He smiled and rested his hand on John's leg.

"Thanks," he smiled, kissing his cheek happily.

"After everything, the truth is, we're still getting to know each other -- I want to show you you can trust me . . . that everything I've told you, I've meant," Sherlock said.

"I appreciate this, Sherlock. I wish I had something to give you besides bruises," he smiled.

"There's more than that -- I'll be reminded every time I bend over to tie my shoe," Sherlock said, smiling and mindlessly stroking John's leg. "I'm teasing you, I'm all right. But I've got lots of nice things to think about. I won't forget about you," he said. 

"I won't forget you either," he promised. When the cab pulled up he slid out and tugged Sherlock with him. "Are you coming in?"

"If you want me to. Or would it easier to say goodbye here?" he asked.

"It's going to be hard either way," he said. "But here will be okay . . .maybe easier," he admitted.

Sherlock slid out of the car with John. He put his arms around him and squeezed him. He glanced up and then leaned in and gave John a soft kiss on the mouth. "It won't be long, I'll speak with you this evening and then I'll see you at the gate tomorrow night, yeah?" He smiled as best he could.

John kissed him back and nodded. "It'll fly by. I'll see you soon, yeah?" He kissed him again and backed away. "Bye, Sherlock."

"Goodbye, John Watson, I'll speak with you this evening," Sherlock said. "Have a good day at work," he added as he climbed back in the cab.

John watched him go before turning into the airport, trying not to think to much about it as he squeezed the key in his pocket.


	8. Apart

As the cab took Sherlock back to the hotel, he sent a text to Mycroft.

_Where and when? I'm bored now. SH_

_Tomorrow. 7am. You don't need to speak. Get the envelope. Keep it sealed. MH_

Mycroft sent the address. Sherlock returned to his room and decided to take a nap first. He dreamt of John, dreamt of him on the plane. He looked like he had when Sherlock met him but he was speaking French.

John arrived to the flight with plenty of time, putting his vest on before getting on the plane. Sarah questioned him the second she saw him but he kept his answers vague -- not that it mattered with the way she was grinning at him. The flight was slow starting, and John found he'd been spoiled by Sherlock's presence in the last flight. No one really needed anything from them and they spent a lot of the flight in the small kitchen area -- John talking about things he'd seen in New York while Sarah tried to get raunchier details out of him. He finally turned the conversation on her and in return, she changed it to something more neutral. 

As they passed through the mountains the flight got very bumpy and John was moving around the cabin reassuring passengers despite his own nerves. He couldn't wait until they finally landed and when the captain finally announced the beginning of their descent, it could hardly come fast enough. He helped wherever he could to get everyone out of the plane quickly. 

"And what's your hurry? He's not waiting at your hotel, is he?" Sarah teased quietly as they thanked passengers. 

"No," John shook his head. "But he doesn't have to be, does he?" 

Sarah's mouth fell open and she laughed gleefully. "You dirty boy! I approve," she laughed, earning her a dirty look from the woman passing by at the time. 

John started cleaning up even as lone passengers straggled out. Sarah helped, and it wasn't long after that they were taking their bags and leaving. They shared a cab to the hotel, Sarah punching his arm several times as she went into her own room. John continued up one more flight to his floor and hurried into his room. He'd hardly set his bag down when he was dialing up Sherlock. 

After Sherlock's nap, he decided it would be a good idea to have a bath. He ran a tub of hot water and even put some oil in it, which smelled quite nice. He sunk into it and it felt very good on the sore parts of his body. He thought about being with John in the bath and the shower and in the bed. He was so glad all of this had happened, even though there was a bit of him that felt sure that his poor social skills might ruin it all. He was selfish and awkward and not very thoughtful; he knew that. He didn't want to be like that, he didn't want to hurt John. He didn't want to drive him away.

After the bath he made a cup of tea and ordered dinner in his room. When the food came, he poured himself some wine to help relax and get him ready to sleep. He tried not to keep looking at the clock, but in truth, he was completely aware of the time the whole evening.

Once he finished his food, he put the plate and silverware on the desk and poured himself a second glass of wine. He turned on the news quietly and got into bed. He set the alarm and then decided to order a wake-up call, just in case. He turned out the lamp and rolled over to rest. The minute his phone rang, he saw John's name and answered.

"John Watson," he said.

"Hello," John grinned, not admitting how glad he was to hear the familiar, deep rumble of Sherlock.   

"This is Sherlock Holmes. I'm glad you've phoned. I've missed hearing your voice in this room," he said, smiling.

"I know who you are," John laughed softly. "It's very good to hear you." 

"How was your flight? Any handsome, clever men aboard, besides you, of course?" Sherlock asked.

"It was all right. Got a bit bumpy over the mountains. It was boring, really," he said. 

"My day was boring. Took a nap. Then a bath. Then ate dinner. Now I'm in bed. I've got to go pick up the document at 7am and then I'll rest before the flight. Boring. I wish you were here."

"I wish I was there, too," John said. He took his vest off and started unbuttoning his shirt as he got ready to lay down. "I kept your key in my pocket -- like a little secret." 

"I'm glad. How's your hotel?" Sherlock asked. "As nice as mine?"

"No," John laughed. He took his trousers off so he was walking around in his undershirt and pants. "We both wouldn't fit in this tub," he said, peeking into the bathroom. "And my soap doesn't smell very good. Oh! I'm also missing a handsome detective on my bed.

"It's a shame you left," Sherlock said. "There's a handsome detective in mine. Have you got in bed yet?"

"Climbing in now," John said, settling under the covers. "I meant to pack him but I must have forgotten him -- there's always something."

"Don't feel bad -- I'm always losing things. I swear there was a handsome steward in my room earlier today but I've looked around and I can't find him anywhere," Sherlock said. "I'm in bed as well."

John moved to the side he was sleeping on at Sherlock's and then turned his head to the side, facing where he would be if he were here. "Funny, I seem to have one of those here," he said. 

"Soaking in the bath seems to have helped me feel less sore," Sherlock said, turning on his side. "I thought of you while I was in the bath. Remembering."

"Because you were sore?" John smiled softly. "I'm looking at the bruise on my leg, touching it."

"No, not just because of that. Because of the things we did in there. And here on the bed. I like thinking of those things. Not as much as I liked doing them, but thinking of them is also very nice," he said, shifting his legs a bit across the soft sheets.

John flushed lightly and smiled wider. "I've been thinking about those things as well," he said quietly. "They've been properly distracting me."

"I wish we could do things right now," Sherlock said. "I wish I could kiss your mouth. I can't believe how much I like doing that."

"You're telling me," John smiled softly. "You have a lovely mouth -- perfect for kissing."

"I've never used it much for that, I'm glad it still knows what to do," Sherlock said. "It's easy to kiss you because you seem to make me a bit insane with lust. Again, this is very unusual for me."

"Yes, you definitely share that feeling," John chuckled. "I feel it right through the phone."

"If we were together right now, would you let me kiss you?"

"Oh yes," he murmured. "But not for long because your neck . . . I just love tasting that lovely, long neck."

"I like your mouth there," Sherlock said remembering. He put his free hand up to his neck. "Would you leave a mark?"

"I would, just like the others," John said.

"Why do you like leaving marks?" Sherlock asked.

"I thought you liked them," John said. "It's something real. A visible mark of the things we're feeling."

"I suppose I do like them," Sherlock said, "because I've never had anything like that. You seem to be introducing me to quite a few new things."

"New things can be very good," John said. "You were new. And very, very good."

"Have we done everything now or have we exhausted everything new?"

"There's always new things to try," John smiled. "New places to try it. New games."

"Right now, the most exciting place I can think to try it is in my own bed at home," Sherlock said, slightly surprised by his sentimentality but it felt true so he didn't regret saying it. He did want to see John in his own bed, wake up next to him there.

"Tell me what your bed looks like," John said. "What could we do there?"

"It's messy, my flat is always a mess," Sherlock said, "It probably smells, I don't even notice it anymore. I do keep my sheets clean, though, I promise. But the rest of the flat . . . disaster. I appreciate this is probably not the sexy talk you were expecting, but there's no use in lying at this point."

"Mess," John smiled. "Lots of things to shove out of our way."

"No, John, don't romanticise. Some of these things can't be shoved out of the way. We don't want to start a major epidemic or permanently stain the carpet. Let's just stay on the bed for now," Sherlock said, laughing softly.

"I suppose I will stick to shoving your clothes off, then," John chuckled softly.

"All right then, that'll do," Sherlock said. "And yours off as well. Wait, we'll have to stop and get supplies . . . I don't have anything like that in the flat. I'm sorry -- that's not very sexy talk."

"Safe talk is always sexy," he said like a teacher. "I can bring supplies."

"I'll pack what we have left," Sherlock said. "I don't want to wait once we get home. Well, maybe a shower, but then to bed. All right? I want your body against mine."

"We can get into the shower together -- we'll both need one," he smiled. "Wet, slippery, warm..." he murmured.

"I don't have any fancy stuff in there," Sherlock said. "But my towels are clean." He made a little cough. "I'm not good at this sex talk, am I, John? But please know I'm very good at thinking about it, I've been thinking about it all day and it's been lovely."  
  
"Well, why don't you tell me what you're thinking and just forget the technical stuff," John said.

"I've just been thinking about kissing your mouth. I like how our bodies fit together, I like pressing against you. I've been thinking about putting you in my mouth, putting myself inside of you. I've been thinking about what you did to me this morning, how I've never let anyone before and maybe one day you'll do that again. And all those thoughts make not only make me hard but also make me . . . feel unusual in my head as well. They make me feel a longing for you I don't really feel for other people," Sherlock said quietly. "Anyway, that's what I've been thinking. How was that?"

John had started stroking himself slowly as Sherlock spoke, closing his eyes to listen. Then he smiled and opened his eyes again. "I've been thinking about those things, too. About kissing you, tasting you, putting you in my mouth, the wet heat of your mouth, your fingers inside, stretching me open, and then your cock filling me up, pumping hard like before . . ."

"Your breathing's changed," Sherlock said, "are you touching yourself? Should I do that as well?" He shifted onto his back and slid his free hand into his pajama bottoms. "Keep talking," he said softly as he began to slowly stroke himself.

"I liked how you used your mouth, and I liked how you sucked marks into my skin. I'm imagining your hand on your cock and I wish it was mine. I wish I could hold it and stroke you softly until you were so hard you were leaking."

"Wow, John," Sherlock said, "you don't mess about . . . but it's working quite well. I can feel the wetness already." He spread his legs a little and let his hips move. "I'm thinking of being between your legs, of making you wet with my mouth so I can use my fingers on you." He closed his eyes and thought about doing that.

John moaned softly and closed his eyes, stroking himself harder. He put the phone on speaker and set it down close to his ear, turning onto his back. "Your fingers are so slender and long . . . and I feel them deep. It's so nice." 

"Your voice has changed now," Sherlock said, "Am I on speakerphone? I suppose that's a guarantee you're on your own." He changed his own phone and set it on the pillow. "I know what you're doing with one hand, what are you doing with the other?" he asked, noticing that his own breathing and voice had more rasp to them.

"Clutching the bed. I'm imagining it's your hair," John smiled softly. 

"I like that, I don't know why," Sherlock imagined John's fingers in his hair. "I like all the ways you touch me."

John moaned softly. "I like touching you -- your hair, skin, everything. I wish you were here . . .this isn't as warm as when we're together."

"You're good, John, you do all the right things -- you've just met me and you know all the right things to do."

"So do you. You make me feel so good, so alive and warm and happy," John said, his hand stroking steadily. 

Sherlock's whole body felt warm and he could feel all of his muscles beginning to tense. There was a ball of energy in his stomach, and it was slowly moving downwards and he knew it wouldn't be long. He wasn't sure what he'd sound like on the phone, but before he could think of that, he said, "I want to make you happy, John," as he came into his hand. He didn't say anything else, just felt a little exposed as he tried to quietly calm his breathing.

John listened and smiled happily, stroking himself harder and faster now. He imagined Sherlock's messy flat, being pushing against walls and on top of scrap papers and junk mail. He imagined living there -- papers with his name on them because he lived there, with Sherlock. And with all the sexy things in the back of his mind, that's what pushed him over. He came into his hand, mumbling Sherlock's name. 

Sherlock listened to John's noises, imagining being next to him as he made them. He picked up his phone and turned off the speaker. Then he finally said, "I've never done that before. I mean, on the phone, with someone."

As John came down and caught his breath, he turned the phone off speaker and picked it up again. "I never have either," he said, turning onto his side again. "It was very good."

"Not as good as if you were here," Sherlock said, "but I liked it."

"Nothing is as good as you in person," John smiled softly. "Now I miss you even more."

"I miss you, too," Sherlock said. "I want to take you to my flat and kiss you there."

"Well, I have the key so I will take you to your flat and kiss you there," he said.

"True," Sherlock said, "I forgot about that. It won't be long, John. I wish I could sleep all day and then wake up and see you."

"I do too," he said. "Maybe I will go out just so the day passes by faster. Tomorrow afternoon I'll be leaving again so I just have to make it until then," he said. 

"I'll be up and out earlier so I might spend the rest of the time napping until it's time to leave. I don't want to look too tired when I see you. I can't afford to have you go off me since you've got my key and all," Sherlock said.

"Yes, we both know that's what's keeping me around," John said sarcastically.

"Look, I just want to make sure I've got my proper hooks in you before you start seeing me at my worst," Sherlock said, smiling in a way that he hoped John could see through the phone. "I'm going to have to hang up soon. I'm a bit sleepy after that and I've got to get up early," he added softly.

"Of course," John said, trying to sound casual. "And you should know your hooks are plenty in," he smiled. "I will see you soon."

"All right, John Watson, I'm so very glad to have heard your voice," Sherlock said. He hung up and rolled over in bed. He imagined John there and wished he could curl around him.

"Good night," John said, hanging up as well and turning to face the ceiling. It was going to be a very long night for him.

Sherlock quickly drifted to sleep but woke up a few hours later. He thought about calling John, but didn't want to wake him. Then he remembered the time difference -- it wasn't quite as late there. He picked up his phone.

_I woke up. I miss you again. SH_

_I haven't fallen asleep yet. I miss you, too. -JW_

_Let's memorise this longing feeling. One day we may be old and bored of each other and wish it were still around. SH_

_That was meant to be romantic but I'm not very good at romantic. SH_

_It's a good thing I'm lying down because you're making me swoon dangerously. -JW_

_Don't tease. I'm trying. SH_

_I'm sorry. I really am swooning. I really do miss you. -JW_

_I miss you, too, you fool. I'm going to try to sleep again. SH_

Sherlock rolled over again and smiled. He double checked his alarm and settled back to sleep again.

John wanted to send something back but was worried he'd only wake the man up again. He closed his own eyes and was more successful this time. He kept his phone loosely in his hand.

This time Sherlock slept through the night. His alarm seemed too loud at 6am and he shouted at the man who rang with his wake up call, even though he had, of course, requested it. He dragged himself into the shower, dressed, and made his way to catch a cab to meet Mycroft's man.

He did as he was told: said nothing, retrieved the sealed envelope and returned to the hotel. He lay back on the bed, not wanting to call and wake John since it was even earlier in California, and he fell back asleep, still fully dressed.

John slept in to almost eleven, waking up to his phone crushed under his cheek. Before he got out of bed he sent Sherlock a good morning, ordering breakfast and using the bathroom.

Sherlock's phone woke him, he glanced at the time and was surprised he had slept so long. He stretched and then text John back.

_How many hours until I see you? SH_

_I land in New York at nine tonight. We have a two hour layover so we can meet up for tea if you like. -JW_

_Have a safe flight. Miss me a little but not too much. I shall see you at our regular meeting place at the airport. SH_

Sherlock wasn't quite sure how to spend the day, but since he still had a few hours before any decisions had to be made, he decided to go back to sleep for a bit.

Eventually he woke up and decided to shower again. He got dressed and packed up his things. While he was eager to see John and get home, he wasn't extremely eager about the airline food so he decided to head out and get a late lunch. He ended up wandering around the city, taking a look through [**New York City Police Museum**](http://www.nycpm.org/), and almost enjoying himself.


	9. The Reunion

When he got back to the hotel, he sat in the bar for a while. He got himself a whiskey and observed the people, who were primarily boring. Then he made his way back to his room where he lay down on the bed to watch the news.

Suddenly his phone was buzzing and Sherlock realised he had fallen asleep once again. He had always considered himself quite fit, but perhaps two days of shagging and walking around had had a greater effect on his stamina than he'd have thought. He picked up his phone.

_Change in plans. I need you to pick something else up. MH_

_Details, please. SH_

_Not just yet. I will send them when I can. MH_

_Don't delay. I head to the airport at 19.30. SH_

Sherlock humphed in annoyance. He quickly typed a message to John, though he had no idea if he'd receive it mid-air.

_May be delayed. If I miss you at the counter, I'll see you on the plane. SH_

He set his phone down and tried not to get himself too worked up even though he knew it was too late for that, he was already thoroughly annoyed with Mycroft.

_Your flight does not depart until 23.00. I will send details when I can. Do not leave for the airport. MH_

Sherlock threw the phone across the bed and waited as patiently as he could, which was not very patiently at all.

When John finished his breakfast he got a hold of Sarah and convinced her to go out with him for a walk. After getting lost for an hour and then being dragged into crowded shops, John suggested they head back. He ate a small lunch and then took a shower, getting ready to head to the airport again. 

He shared the cab with Sarah and was just checking in when he saw Sherlock's message. A heavy feeling settled into his chest and he tried to ignore it as he sent a message back saying that was okay. They got onto their flight and John let his mind focus on Sherlock, his body doing the work in autopilot.

After an hour without hearing from Mycroft, Sherlock picked up his phone and sent a text.

_Two hours until I leave. SH_

He went in the bathroom, splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth. He double checked his bag and set everything on the edge of the bed. His phone made a noise, but it was from John. He was glad that he knew that John knew so he wouldn't have to worry about John worrying. He set the phone back down and waited for Mycroft, trying -- unsuccessfully -- not to watch the clock. Even though he wanted to meet John at nine, he'd be willing to accommodate Mycroft's request as long as he was on that plane with John.

At eight o'clock he still hadn't heard from Mycroft. Now he was properly frustrated. He picked up his phone.

_Unless I can complete this errand on the way to the airport, I'm afraid you'll need to find someone else to help you. SH_

He stood up and put on his coat.

_Wait a moment. Details on the way. MH_

Sherlock kept his coat on and sat next to his bags on the bed. But it was another half hour before his phone went again.

_Tomorrow morning, 7am, map attached. Say nothing. Make sure envelope is sealed and keep it that way. MH_

Sherlock felt sick to his stomach.

_Sorry, brother. I'll be in London by then. SH_

He stood up but his phone went again before he even got to the door.

_No, you won't be. I've rebooked you on a flight that leaves at noon tomorrow and have kept the same room for the night. Enjoy it. MH_

_No, Mycroft. I need to be home. Get me back on that flight. SH_

_It'll be filled now. Stop being a child. An extra night in NYC? You're a lucky man. MH_

Sherlock didn't waste time responding. He opened his laptop, got the flight information, and rang the airline.

Mycroft was right. The seat was gone. The plane was full.

He immediately got online to find another flight, but the connection was slow and by the time he got to what looked like a possibility, it was too close to departure to book online. He grabbed his bags and went downstairs to hail a taxi.

Once in the cab, he tried to collect his thoughts. This would be okay -- he'd make it to the airport in time to catch John and explain. He'd just get another flight. Or maybe John could pull some strings and get him on the flight. He got his phone out and texted Mycroft.

_I despise you. I will tell you this to your face when I'm back in London tomorrow morning. SH_

He slipped his phone into his pocket.

"I hope you're not in a hurry, fella," the driver said via the rear view mirror. "There's something going on on the bridge and everything's moving slowly."

Sherlock's stomach lurched again. "I will double the fare if you can get me there before eleven," he said.

"I'd love to and I'll do my best, but these cabs can't fly," he replied.

Sherlock got online again and continued trying to find a seat on a flight leaving tonight.

John greeted passengers with a monotonous tone, lighting up as each one came around the bend and then deflating visibly when it wasn't Sherlock. When Sarah told him to close the door he shook his head, insisting they wait just a little bit longer. Maybe there had been traffic or something. He kept repeating to himself that Sherlock would be here.

"John, I'm sorry. All the seats are full," Sarah said quietly.

John swallowed hard and nodded, shutting the door angrily. He leaned against it for a moment and took a deep breath. It was not Sarah's fault or anyone else's on this plane that Sherlock hadn't shown up. John moved into the small kitchen area to check his phone. There was nothing besides being late to the counter.

_You shouldn't have told him you loved him._ The voice broke through suddenly and for a long while John had trouble remembering when he'd said it. And then that hit him and he flushed, covering his own face. Sherlock hadn't said anything back. If it had freaked him out why hadn't he said something? And could John really be blamed for saying it during sex? During Sherlock's first time?

John covered his mouth, horrified. That was the _worst_ time to have said that! And now they were taxiing and he had to shut the bloody thing off and work. He stuffed the phone away and started setting up his tray. He would land in London and disappear into the city. His heart clenched at the thought but he pushed it aside. It would be for the best. 

Sherlock's eyes continued to dart between the road, the clock and his phone. He couldn't get a ticket online so he tried ringing directly. He had to go through a series of menus and began to wonder if he'd ever reach a human being. This was unbearable.

"Finally," the driver said under his breath as the traffic started to clear. Sherlock looked at the clock: 10.45. He immediately began to plan his run through the airport to get to the gate. And then all of a sudden it hit him: he wasn't going to make it.

"If I get you there by 11.05, will you still give me double?" the driver asked.

But Sherlock couldn't say any words. He was trying to come up with Plan B.

The taxi pulled up to the airport, and Sherlock flew out of the cab, grabbing his bags and throwing some cash at the driver. He ran to the first airline's counter and began trying to find a flight. He tried to be as patient as he could with the clerk, but once again he wasn't very successful. 

Finally, he leaned in and said, "I do not intend to walk away from this desk until you find me a flight to London that will leave within the next thirty minutes." He took out $100 and put it on the counter. "You will be welcome to donate this money to the charity of your choice if you can help me. If you can't, I believe you are going to find me extremely irritating."

The man looked up and continued working. "I found one," he finally said. "You'll have to stow your suitcase -- the baggage has already been loaded." Sherlock paid and the clerk showed him how to get to the gate. Sherlock began running.

The minute he was on the flight he pulled out his phone to ring John.

"I'm sorry, sir, you'll need to turn that off," said the steward. Sherlock glanced up. The man was ugly and Sherlock hated him. Mainly because he wasn't John.

He put away his phone and tried to settle into his seat. He looked at the ticket. The plane was actually arriving fifteen minutes before John's. He could do this. He had to believe he could make it to John's gate so he could see that Sherlock was there. If he still wanted to see Sherlock.

The flight for John seemed to last forever. Every person that called John made the heaviness in his chest worse and worse. He felt Sarah staring at him, trying to catch him for questions but he kept himself busy and avoided her. When they finally landed he took his time helping and cleaning, taking his bag very last and leaving without Sarah. He was eager to get out of the airport, to get home.

As soon as he could, Sherlock sent John a text.

_I'm sorry. Unexpected problem but I will see you in London. SH_

It didn't make him feel better. He wouldn't feel better until he knew John understood. He left his phone on his table tray, but it remained silent. He sent another one a half hour later. He told himself that the lack of response was only because John was working. But he sent another one thirty minutes later. 

_Please forgive me. I meant everything I said. I did. I will see you soon. SH_

He kept sending them but got no reply. He didn't eat his dinner and did his best to sleep -- now cursing himself for having slept so much during the day. He spent some time in his mind palace: John was there and he forgave him and everything was fine. That felt better but it was hard to stay there.

The announcement that they were getting ready to land could not have come quickly enough for Sherlock. He got himself ready and the minute the passengers were allowed to stand, he pushed his way through, grabbed his bag, and ran. He knew the gate where John's plane was landing, thank god it was the same terminal and not far away. He pushed through the people who had just been getting off until he got to the gate. He couldn't see John.

"Is everyone off the plane?" he asked the person at the counter.

"All passengers are. Were you expecting someone, sir?"  
  
"And the crew?"

"Any moment now."

Thank god, Sherlock thought. He sat his bag on the chair closest to the gate and waited, trying to catch his breath. He waited. He waited for John.

John came out into the gate half running, hardly aware of his surroundings as he barreled past the desk. He kept his eyes down. And then he stopped suddenly, remembering the key. He closed his eyes and stood there for a moment. He still had Sherlock's flat key. He would just find the lost and found, to hand it in and be done with it all. He felt so stupid.

John pulled his phone out of his pocket to turn it back on and turned in on. Messages flooded in and as he read them, he let his bag slip from his hand. He looked up suddenly as if some doorway was going to point him to Sherlock -- but if he'd missed the flight he wouldn't be here yet.

"John!" Sherlock called. "John." Sherlock smiled softly. Then all of a sudden, he wondered if this had been a mistake. Had he gone to all this trouble over a silly one-or-two-night-stand? Had John even read the texts? Had Sherlock turned the whole missed flight into a trauma for no reason whatsoever?

John grabbed his bag when his eyes fell on the man. His bag fell from his hand again. "I just saw your messages . . . I thought . . ." he trailed off and shook his head, moving closer to him.

"I'm so, so sorry," Sherlock said. "There was a delay . . . I did my best but I missed the flight. But I'm here now. I had to see you." He looked down, realising he had yet to catch his breath. "After all, you've got my key . . ." he smiled cheekily. "I'm so sorry, John, this isn't how I wanted this to happen."

"That's okay," John said, taking the key and holding it out to him. "These things happen. I just thought I scared you away when I said . . ."

Sherlock didn't take the key. "I'm not afraid of the unusual, John," he said. "Didn't you remember what happened? That's what I thought of -- I remembered and the unusual didn't seem scary. It just felt . . . unusual," he looked up at John. "Unusual and good. Remember?"

John nodded. He held the key out again. "I just worried you hadn't really meant it . . . about us being together here," he added. 

"John, I do not say what I don't mean. I only say what I know I mean," he still hadn't take the key from John. He glanced up at the people around them. "Come on, I'll explain everything in the taxi. Can we go to mine first?"

John gave up and put the key back into his pocket. "Well, I don't say what I don't mean either so . . .is that okay? That I said that?" 

"Obviously," Sherlock said smiling, "or why would I be here?" He pulled softly on John's arm, leading them away from the gate.


	10. Home

John allowed himself to be pulled along, gazing over at Sherlock. "So, does you missing the flight have to do with your brother then?" he tried. 

"Yes, he wanted another favour and changed my ticket without informing first," Sherlock explained. "But that was unacceptable to me so I found another flight home." He looked over at John and felt so relieved he seemed to be forgiving him.

"I'm glad you texted -- I wish I had seen them when they first came through."

"I should have called earlier when he first got in contact. I'm not good when I get focused. I'm not used to thinking of other people," Sherlock said. Once John was sorted with his check out, they headed to the street.

"Can we go to mine? I know you probably want to get home -- we don't have to, we can meet up tomorrow, it's up to you. And you should probably also know that I did not have the slightest idea I might be bringing someone back with me, so what you will see is precisely how I live," Sherlock said.

"I don't mind," John smiled. "We can go to yours. You can't get in without me," he teased. 

"Right, though . . ." Sherlock said, "that may not be entirely true. But it would be much easier to use the key you've now go in your pocket." He hailed a cab and they were on their way.

"Is there someone to let you in?" John asked.

"My landlady might be there, but the truth is I'm quite good at getting inside locked places. Usually but not always," Sherlock said. He leaned back and looked over at John, so glad to see his face. It was just as he remembered but so much better in life than in his head.

John glanced over and smiled. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I like your face, I'm used to it now so I missed it when it wasn't around," Sherlock said, smiling. He reached over and held John's hand.

John chuckled softly. "Yes, I missed your face as well. Your hands and that hair and everything."

Sherlock smiled and squeezed John's hand. Then he gazed out the window, so glad to be back home. When the car pulled up, he paid the driver and held open the door for John. He led him to the front door and then turned to look at him.

"Oh," John remembered suddenly, pulling the key from his pocket. "Here you go," he smiled.

Sherlock unlocked the door and led John upstairs. "Mrs Hudson," he called as he passed her door, "I'm back." At the top of the stairs, he took a deep breath and, turning to John, said, "All right then, here we go."  
  
He pushed open the door, but the flat was slightly tidier than he had left it. Mrs Hudson, he thought and was a little annoyed but also a little pleased. Sherlock opened the drapes to let some light in. He turned to look at John. "Can I kiss you now?" he asked.

John grinned. "I'm a bit upset you haven't already," he teased, moving his eyes onto Sherlock.

"I didn't know if I should at the airport, if you were still cross or wanted the others to see," Sherlock said, moving towards John. He leaned down and cupped John's face in his hand. He stood for a moment, just looking at John's handsome face. And then he dipped in and kissed his mouth softly and quickly and then dropped his hands and stepped back. "Tea?" he asked, moving towards the kitchen. He filled the kettle and turned it on before moving to the fridge which was empty except for a new pint of milk. Mrs Hudson again, he thought, this time only feeling thankful.

John pouted playfully. "I don't see you for a whole day and that's all I get?" he laughed, joining him in the kitchen. He kept his face turned away from Sherlock, denying him another one.

"I'm pacing myself until I know the plan for the rest of the day. It's morning, but I'm exhausted and you've not been home and I don't know what the plan is. I want to decide on a plan so I know when I will be able to lie down next to you on bed and kiss you properly," Sherlock said, pouring the tea. He handed John a cup. "So what's the plan?"

"I suppose I should go home, get some fresh clothes and such," John said. "You're welcome to come along if you want."

"Will you be coming back here?" Sherlock asked, "at some point? Today, I mean."

"I can, yeah," John nodded. He smiled and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Like I said, you're more than welcome to come along."

"Shall I come tomorrow? I need to speak with Mrs Hudson, my landlady, and I should probably sort the business with my brother. Will you come back and we can go to yours tomorrow? I'm being selfish, aren't I, but I am selfish, I did warn you," Sherlock said, feeling a little bit of electricity lingering in the spot John had kissed.

"I'll go home, pack an overnight bag and clean up a bit, and then I will come back," John promised. "I will head there now so I can get all of that out of the way."

"All right," Sherlock said, putting his arms around John and pulling him close, "one more before you go. You kiss me."

John thought about saying no just to tease him, but now that they were so close he really couldn't resist. He pressed his mouth to Sherlock's, kissing him hard but sweetly, his hands coming up between them to hold Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock hummed into the kiss. "Okay, hurry, I want to do more of that," he said, softly pushing him away. "Look, I need to prepare -- any chances your brother is going to come with a ridiculous scheme that will prevent you from returning to this flat as soon as you can? Or is that just mine who does those things?" He smiled, but he was so impatient for John to return and for them to just relax and have the day to be together.

"I have a sister that I hardly speak to so you don't have to worry. And I'm taking your key because if I come back and your brother has detained you again, I'm just going to roll around in your bed and wank alone," he grinned.

"John Watson!" Sherlock said, smiling. "Just do your best -- as I did -- to let me know if you get delayed, okay? I am . . . eager for your return."

John laughed and promised he would as he left, hailing a cab to go home.

Sherlock washed his face and brushed his teeth and then went down to knock on Mrs Hudson's door. When she answered it, he said, "I'm home."  
  
"So I heard, dear," she replied.

"Thank you for the tidy and for leaving the milk," he said, "I presume you didn't disturb anything imporant."  
  
"Of course not," she said. "Don't be ungrateful."  
  
Sherlock smiled at her. "I have a new friend."

"Do you, Sherlock?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes, don't make a thing," he said turning to head back upstairs. "I'll introduce you tomorrow. You can stop smiling now."

Mrs Hudson was still smiling as she closed her door.

Sherlock next rang Mycroft.

"I am home," Sherlock said when he answered.

"I am aware of that," Mycroft said. "So all's well that ends well, eh?"

"Not really," Sherlock said. "It was irritating and I had to pay for the flight myself."

"And do you care to elaborate why this whole business matters in the slightest?"

"No," Sherlock said.

"Could it perhaps be due to the 'interesting person' you claim to have met on the flight out?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock was now annoyed with himself. "No," he said. "I need to go now."

"Why? Are you expecting company?"  
  
Sherlock hung up the phone. How does he do that -- how does he always know? And more importantly, why does he care?

John went into his flat and looked around, realising how boring it was compared to the thoroughly lived-in feel of Sherlock's place. He freshened up a bit and unpacked, filling it with fresh clothes for a couple nights, just to be safe.

_So far so good. I'll see you soon. -JW_

Sherlock saw John's text arrive and felt better.

_Hurry. SH_

John smiled at the message and grabbed his bag, hurrying out to hail a cab. There was a black car in the street that he moved past to hail a cab, but it moved up the curb to block him. When he tried to move past it a second time, he was blocked again and this time the door of the car opened.

Anthea leaned forward and said, "Get in, John Watson, we'll take you to Baker Street" before leaning back and going back to her phone.

John hesitated and pulled out his phone.

_Might be delayed. -JW_

He made sure it sent before he got in and shut the door. "What's going on? Who are you?"

At the flat, Sherlock read John's message. Was he teasing? His stomach felt a little funny. He must be teasing. He'll be here soon.

Anthea looked at him and then back at her phone as the car pulled away. She said nothing.

The car drove on and eventually pulled in an almost empty parking garage. It pulled up next to another similar black car.

"You can get out now," Anthea said, without looking away from her phone.

"Here? Where are we?" John asked.

Anthea said nothing, but nodded her head towards the other car. Its back window was rolled down and a man's head looked out and motioned for John to get in.

John pulled out his phone again as he got out.

_Something odd is going on. -JW_

He climbed into the other car and started at the man who had motioned him in. "What is going on here?"

Sherlock picked up his phone.

_Where are you? SH_

_I'll come get you. SH_

_Are you okay? SH_

"Are those from Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, acknowledging the noises from John's phone.

"Yes," John said, typing back without caring if it was rude or not. "You'll be his brother, then?"

_I'm fine but I think I've just met your brother. -JW_

Sherlock paced as he typed a text to Mycroft first.

_Stop this now. SH_

And then to John.

_Come to the flat, please. SH_

"It's sweet, I suppose," Mycroft said, not bothering to look at his own phone. "Could you tell me what your intentions are for my brother?"

"Intentions?" John asked, looking up at him with s slightly amused expression. "Last I checked Sherlock is a very capable adult."

"Then you've not looked close enough, Dr Watson. My brother does many things very well, but being a capable adult does not make that list."

Sherlock texted Mycroft.

_Leave him alone. SH_

Then he texted John.

_Leave. SH_

"I have to go. Lovely meeting you," John said, moving to open the door of the car. "If you need me again, you can find me at your brother's," he added, unable to help himself. He shut the door with a snap and walked away from both cars. 

_Well, he's interesting. I'm going to get a cab now. -JW_

Sherlock felt a wave of relief even though this was not he had wanted their lives in London to start. He sent Mycoft one last text.

_This is not over, brother. SH_

Then he quickly changed the sheets on his bed, turned on the kettle and sat down to wait for John.

When the cab finally pulled up -- it had taken forever to find a main road -- he used the key and let himself in. "Sherlock?" he called as he approached the flat, still a bit nervous about just walking in. 

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said immediately. "I'm sorry about him. He didn't . . . hurt you at all, right?" He brought a cup of tea to John. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not." He motioned for John to sit down and he sat next to him.

"No, he just . . . " John dropped his bag on one of the armchairs and sat beside Sherlock. "He asked me what my intentions were towards you." 

"Interesting," Sherlock said, relaxing a little. "And what was your answer . . . if you want to share?"

"I sort of laughed at him and told him you were on adult. Then I told him he could find me here and I left," John grinned. 

"Hmm . . ." Sherlock said. "Shall we stop talking about him now? I've gone sleepy. I want to go into the bedroom with you. Can we?"

John nodded, setting his half finished mug on the coffee table. "Are we going to take a nap?" he asked, standing to let Sherlock lead the way. 

"Yes," Sherlock said. He stood up and led John into his room. "The sheets are clean, but not as nice as the hotel's." He started to unbutton his shirt.

"I am sure they are lovely," John smiled, following his lead and taking his own shirt off, his trousers following soon after. 

"I'm going to my pajamas on," Sherlock said, pulling out a fresh pair from the drawer. "Sorry, I'm not quite sure why I announced that." He was feeling a little nervous again.

"It's good you did because I was wondering," John assured him, getting his own from his bag. He put on the flannel bottoms and an old t-shirt. 

"I usually sleep on this side," Sherlock said, lifting the duvet and crawling in. He watched John get in as well and then immediately slid against him, his arms moving around John's back and pulling him close. He tangled their legs and pressed his mouth against John's, kissing him like he had at the hotel.

John hummed softly and kissed him back, eventually pulling back to catch his breath. "I thought we were napping," he teased, pecking small kisses on his lips. 

"We are," Sherlock said. "I'm just getting myself comfortable." He moved down and kissed John's neck a bit and then snuggled in against his chest. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," John smiled, petting his hair. "Being comfortable is the first step to falling asleep," he said with mock seriousness. 

"I am comfortable with you, John," Sherlock said, "even in London." He squeezed John a little more, snuggling closer.

"What a relief . . .I was worried we were going to have to fly all the way back to New York," John grinned, wrapping his arms tightly around Sherlock.  

"Shush," Sherlock said, "I'm trying to take a nap." He slid one hand down John's body and used it to pull up John's shirt. As he snuggled in, he began to kiss John's chest and suck lightly on the skin.

John bit his lip and hummed softly. He opened his mouth to make some other retort but promptly took it back, focusing on what Sherlock was doing. 

Sherlock shifted his legs a bit. He kissed John's chest a few more time and then rested his head against him and said, "Night, night."

John just barely held back a disappointed 'oh'. "Right, um, good night," he said, clearing his throat softly and curling against him. 

"You give up easily," Sherlock teased.

"Wha--? You said you were sleepy and I'm not going to force you just because I get a hard-on just by you breathing in my direction!" 

Sherlock slid his hand down John's body. "You don't have a hard on, you liar," he said. He rested his hand over John's pajamas. "You tease."

"Well, I would have one if you had kept going. I was being respectful," John said in mock seriousness. 

"What would you be doing now if you weren't trying to be so respectful?" Sherlock said, his hand still on John.

"Arching into that lovely mouth," John said. "Encouraging you to go lower. . . maybe even suggesting a new position to try." 

"All right then," Sherlock said. "You take charge since I'm sleepy. What do I do first?"

"Well, we have to take everything off first," John said, tugging Sherlock's shirt over his head and moving to pull his pajama bottoms down as well. 

"Okay then," Sherlock said, kind of liking take-charge John. "You too," Sherlock said, pulling on John's pajamas. "Now what?" he asked, "I'm cold by the way."

"Shh," John smiled. "Do you want me to lay on my side next to you or get on top of you? Keep in mind that getting on top of you might be a bit more . . . crude," he said.

"Crude, please," Sherlock said, smiling.

John flushed lightly but nodded and turned away from him before straddling him. "This way, we can enjoy each other's mouths at the same time," he explained, not scooting back just yet so he could make sure Sherlock still wanted it this way. 

"Let's try," Sherlock said. He lifted his hands to John's legs and squeezed. "Move back a bit so I can reach you."

John did as he asked, lining up with Sherlock's mouth. He closed his eyes, nervous, and bent forward so he was hovering over Sherlock's cock. He sucked the head into his mouth, stroking to get him properly hard. 

Sherlock moved his hands to John's cock which he stroked slowly as he first kissed and nipped at John's inner thigh. Then he lifted his chin, licking and sucking John's balls. But he couldn't really reach John's cock properly with his mouth, so he kept stroking for a few minutes and then said, "Our height difference seems to be working against us, I'm afraid. You'd best lie down beside me." Once John had shifted, Sherlock could curl his back a little to get better access. He licked John's tip, flicking his tongue, and then sucked him into his mouth.

John hummed softly, sucking Sherlock properly into his mouth. He rubbed his thighs lightly, down to the back of his knees and back up again.

Sherlock moved to kiss John's legs. "That feels good, John," Sherlock said. It was interesting how John made him feel so relaxed and yet so excited at the same time. He moved back to John's cock, holding it with one hand as he licked it up and down.

John pulled off, his hand stroking steadily before he swallowed Sherlock again.

"Rock you hips just a little," Sherlock said softly, "I want to see what that feels like." He relaxed his throat and held John's thighs.

John rolled his hips lightly, playing with Sherlock's balls lightly as he bobbed back and forth.

Sherlock held onto John's legs tightly so he could stop his movement if he needed to. But it was all right, John didn't move too hard and too fast and Sherlock took his movements in for a few moments before pulling back his head and going back to softly kissing John all over.

John slowly pulled off and stroked him again. "I want to come up and kiss you," he said shifting.

Sherlock leaned back a little and reached for John. Once he moved up, Sherlock squeezed in against him again, his arms around him and their cocks pressed together. He looked at John's face and smiled. "I'm glad you're in my bed," he said softly.

John smiled. "I like that I'm in your bed," he murmured, pressing his mouth to Sherlock's and kissing him hard.

Sherlock parted his lips and slipped his tongue into John's mouth. Again there was something beautiful about the way their touching was both soft and hard at the same time. He moved his hands to the back of John's head and held him as they kissed.

John pressed against him, moaning into the kiss as he climbed on top of him. He rolled his hips and groaned softly at the friction, rubbing his sides.

Sherlock watched John's face as he moved and exhaled as he began to rock above him. "God, you feel good," he said, lifting his hands to John's shoulders, letting them move with John's rocking. "I've not done this for long before you, I didn't miss it, but now I want to have this feeling every day."

John nodded. "You're addictive," he smiled, grinding against him. "No one's ever made me feel like you do."

"Hmmm," Sherlock said skeptically. "I'm not entirely sure it's me, John. It's you -- the way you move and look and kiss me, it makes me want you so much." He pulled John's head towards him and kissed him again.

John moaned louder and gripped both of their cocks, stroking them together.

"God, John, that's good, don't stop," Sherlock's breath was heavy now and the feeling of urgency was starting to fill his body. "Don't stop," he said again.

John thrust and pumped his hand, swiping both of their tips and smearing the precome all over them. He panted softly, murmuring Sherlock's name.

Sherlock was panting now, his hips jerking against John's movement. "It's . . . God, John," he called loudly as he came into John's hand, spilling onto his belly. He had squeezed shut his eyes, but now he opened them, riding through his orgasm, as he watched for John's.

John watched him, marveling at how lovely he looked when his own hit. His head feel back as he called out for Sherlock, bucking his hips forward as the waves pulsed through.

Sherlock watched John's face and saw the moment that his control was lost and then felt John's wetness mix with his on his stomach. He pulled him down towards him, kissing him and then moving his mouth over his face as if he were taking everything into him.

John panted and tried to kiss him back, moaning as it all got a bit sloppy. "God, Sherlock..." he said, holding him tightly.

Sherlock turned slightly so John would be beside him. He grabbed his t-shirt and wiped their bellies before sliding in and snuggling against him.

"That was very good," John sighed, draping his arm over Sherlock's middle.

"Should we rest now? I'm exhausted but I don't want to be apart from you," Sherlock said softly. "Can we sleep like this, just for a little while?"

"Of course," John nodded. "I need a little nap too. You tire me out," he teased.

Sherlock smiled. "Rest now because I want to tire you out again when we wake up," he said, giving him a kiss. "I love what we do." He let his eyes close softly.

John grinned, closing his eyes and drifting off.

Sherlock dreamt of John. They were sitting next to each other on a plane, but he didn't know where they were going. John did, but wouldn't tell him.

When he woke up, John was still curled around him and Sherlock smiled and watched him sleep.

John dreamed that Sherlock could fly again, circling around John and teasing him. When he woke up and saw Sherlock watching him he swatted his arm. "Don't tease me," he grumbled, smiling softly.

"I'm not teasing you," Sherlock said. "I'm memorising you." He put his hands up to John's face and softly stroked it, running his fingertips over the lines and then across John's mouth and down to his chin. He leaned his own head in and gently pressed into a kiss. "Did you have a good nap? Are you ready for me to make you tired again?" he asked as he slid against him.

"You were in my dream," John smiled.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Stay here," he stood up and left the room, returning with two glasses of water and a warm, wet cloth. He handed a glass of water to John. "Sit up a bit and have a little drink," he said, setting the other glass on the bedside table. Then he pulled away the duvet a bit, exposing John's lower half. Sherlock crawled up onto the bed and moved down to John's waist. He rubbed John's belly softly with the warm cloth and then used it to stroke up and down John's soft cock. He leaned in close as he did this, and then dropped his head down to lick it softly.

He squirmed under the warm cloth, covering Sherlock's hand as he worked. John bit his lip and pet his hair softly. "You're so good to me," he sighed. 

"I am, aren't I?" Sherlock said, looking up and smiling cheekily. He dropped his head again and sucked softly on the tip of John's cock for a few minutes. Then he sat up a bit and crawled over John, kind of straddling John's thighs. "What do you fancy doing now?" he asked eagerly.

John held his hips, stroking lightly up to his sides and ribs and down again. "Anything," he said. "Everything."

Sherlock smiled. "Let's use our supplies," he said rubbing his hands across John's chest. He leaned over to the bedside cabinet and got out the lube and condoms they had purchased in New York. "Um, I have an idea." He moved off of John and said, "Hold out your hands." He poured some lube into John's hand and then into his own. "Let's try like we did earlier, but instead of mouths, let's use fingers. What do you think?"

John rubbed his hands slowly and grinned. "Yes. Let's do that," he nodded. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock again, careful not to touch him and smear the lube everywhere. "Let's lay on our sides again. Can I also use my mouth?" 

Sherlock smiled, "Do you really expect me to say no?" He turned and lay down upside down next to John. "Turn on your side," he said. With one hand he began to stroke John, putting small kisses on his thighs.

John grinned and kissed along his shaft, down to his thighs as his hand slowly slicked between his legs. "I love touching you," he murmured against his skin. 

"I'm glad," Sherlock said, thinking that he had never really heard anyone say that before and therefore never imagined anyone would. He kept slowly stroking John's cock and with his other hand, he reached hold John's balls and slick the area between his legs. "Is it warming up?" he asked, kissing the tops of John's thigh.

"Oh yes," John murmured, both hands touching and stroking now. "It feels good. Your hands always feel so good," he whispered. 

"Can I use my finger?" Sherlock asked, brushing the tip over John's hole. His stroke on John's cock was slow but steady.

John nipped at his thigh in answer, brushing his own finger over Sherlock's hole, massaging lightly. 

Sherlock smiled at John's movement and softly pushed his fingertip into John as he sucked a mark onto John's thigh. He pushed his finger all the way, enjoying the pressure of John's body around it. He began to pump it slowly as he continued to stroke his cock. "John, you're so good."

"You too," John nodded, gently pushing his finger into Sherlock. It was odd to be doing this and feeling it at the same time. "It's good," he murmured, sucking on his cock lightly. 

"Fuck," Sherlock said. This was more intense than Sherlock had imagined. "This is good," he said, his breath starting to speed up. He lifted one of his legs a little and moved his hips.

John hummed appreciatively, adjusting to take his thrusts and pressing a second finger against his hole, preparing.  

Sherlock slipped in a second finger and kept a steady movement, both there and on John's cock, though it was getting more difficult to concentrate on everything going on. What John was doing felt so good, it made him so full of want. "Yes, John, yes," he said breathlessly.

John moaned as he pushed another finger in as well and swallowing him down, bobbing quicker now as he thrust his fingers. 

For just a few seconds, Sherlock rested his head on John's leg, feeling everything that John was doing to him. He held John's cock still and curled his fingers slightly. "I don't want to stop but I don't know how much more I can take," he admitted before he started moving his hands again.

John nodded. "M-me too," he said, running his lips up and down his shaft. His hips were thrusting and he was trying to keep them controlled.  

Sherlock's hands moved more quickly and he sucked on John's leg again. He pushed his fingers in as far as he could and then brought them almost all the way out, before pushing in hard again and pumping. "You are so sexy," Sherlock moaned against John's skin.

"That's . . .fuck," John gasped suddenly, trying to keep his hand moving steadily as he came, wishing his could have warned Sherlock before it happened. He tried not to buck uncontrolled at his face as the waved coursed through him. 

Sherlock's head pulled back instinctively at the movement but was surprised that he quite enjoyed watching John come. He stroked him through his orgasm, pressing his fingers against his prostate, and then stillling both his hands. "Please don't stop," he begged softly, turning his attention to John's hand and mouth.

As soon as John caught his breath he pushed his fingers against Sherlock's prostate and swallowed his cock, bobbing quickly and pumping his hand. He rest his free hand on Sherlock's hip, stroking encouragingly. 

Sherlock let his hips rock and gripped John's leg hard, letting himself go and coming himself. "Fuck, John, yes," he called out.

John hummed as Sherlock pushed into his mouth, pumping his hand and swallowing around him, his free hand gripping into his thigh. 

Sherlock let his hands slip from John's body and he dropped down on to the bed next to John's legs. "Jesus," he said, "that was very, very good." He lifted one hand to his chest, feeling it rise and fall. "You okay?" he asked, not able to lift his head just yet.

John nodded against his thigh and slipped his fingers out of Sherlock, panting softly to catch his breath. 

When Sherlock finally recovered, he slowly lifted himself up and moved to lie next to John. "We've made a mess of the bed, I'm afraid, but at the moment, I don't really care," he smiled and kissed John's lips lightly. "That was really . . . good. I'm glad we tried it."

"You had a lovely idea," John smiled, bringing a hand to his cheek. "I really enjoy being with you, even though you tire me out," he grinned. 

Sherlock looked over at John a little dreamily then he rolled on his back and looked up at the ceiling. "Do you think we'll be okay when we're just . . . not shagging? When we're just normal?"

John nodded. "I think we will. You mentioned experiments? You could show me something," he shrugged. "I like reading, so I'll have things to do. I started a blog a long time ago that I never wrote on, maybe I could write about your cases and get you some clients." 

"Well, as long as you don't use your excellent powers of seduction on them, maybe," Sherlock said, trying to imagine how it might work. Of course, he was the weak link here, but he would try. He turned and ran his hand over John's hair. "I'm so glad we met, John Watson."

"Me too, Sherlock," John smiled, turning to face him. 


End file.
